


Collision

by caramelariana



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, HP: EWE, M/M, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5280587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelariana/pseuds/caramelariana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is forced into an adventure halfway across the globe with the Golden Trio as he and his friend hunt down an elusive artifact. But treasure is not the only thing Draco finds along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jackie's Junction

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on ff.net on 11.26.2011. Reposted with edits.

Collision: Chapter 1  
Jackie’s Junction

It was a beautiful day in London; the kind where you could forget a war had taken place nearly five years prior. Though there remained a lot of scars in the hearts of a generation, the rebuilding of the wizarding world had made immense progress. If one feared that the new era of peace would cause amnesia, they needn’t worry. The Ministry of Magic, under the able direction of Kingsley Shacklebolt, ensured that measures were taken so that any attempt of starting another war would be trying indeed.

One such measure was to create the Department of Muggle Awareness, headed by Arthur Weasley. The department quickly set to work increasing awareness and understanding of muggles and their culture. The hope was that if wizards understood their non-magical cousins, there would be less inclination to fear or despise them. As part of this initiative, an area was designed off of Diagon Alley to include shops that gave wizards a muggle shopping experience. Cashew Alley featured shops, diners, and even a muggle-style carousel. In the middle of the shopping strip sat Jackie’s Junction.

Jackie was an American who thought that if the British Ministry of Magic wanted to increase muggle awareness, they might as well do so on an international level. And like most Americans, she felt that this was best done by selling American products. She opened up a retail shop that specialized in muggle-American clothing and accessories. She hired young wizards and witches willing to work hard and wear the latest muggle styles.

Retail is not a glamorous job, and certainly not one in which you’d think to find Draco Malfoy.  And yet there he was found, helping a loyal customer decide on a pair of jeans. After Voldemort had been defeated Draco had made a deal with the Ministry of Magic. He was let free with the stipulation that he contribute to the Muggle Awareness Campaign. Unfortunately Jackie was the only one who would hire him, since she had no real feelings concerning the Great War.

The old Draco would never have done well in any field requiring customer service; however, the Draco who’d had his life threatened—on numerous occasions—was just happy to be alive. And if in order to stay alive and comfortable he had to cater to the whims and fancies of picky women and clueless men, then so be it.

Draco thanked Mrs. Crowsley after she paid for her jeans and turned to two women approaching the counter. He was momentarily distracted when Mrs. Crowsley told the two women that they had to work with Draco because he was the best and she only bought clothes when he was working. He laughed to hide his embarrassment at the enthusiastic compliment and thanked her again. Finally, he was able to get a good look at the two women and stopped his greeting short.

There stood Hermione Granger—or Weasley—and her mother-in-law. He had not seen either woman since the end of the war five years prior. He took a deep breath and decided that the best way to navigate this awkward situation was to pretend they were any other customer. He put on his best smile and began his greeting again.

“Good morning, ladies. How may I help you?” His mother would be so proud of his good manners.

The Weasleys took longer to recover from their shock. Used-to-be-Granger was first and thankfully decided to keep things civil. “Um, hi. Molly would like a muggle-styled formal dress.”

Draco nodded. “Let me take you to our formal wear.” On his way he passed a coworker. “Hey, Eva, can you help me out here?” He was confident he would be able to find a perfectly good dress for Molly Weasley on his own, but given the nature of their relationship he thought it best that a neutral party also be involved.

Like Jackie, Eva was American. Unlike Jackie, or anyone else in the store, she was also a muggle. She had witnessed a murder by two wizards and her memory was kept intact so she could testify against them. She had been relocated to London for her safety while the criminals were still on the run. Though they were now incarcerated, she had appealed to become a permanent resident of London and had agreed to secrecy about the magical world.

Draco had never heard of such a practice, and was appalled that the ministry would allow a muggle to live freely among wizards. He supposed it was part of the new praise-the-muggles mentality that had swept the community. Of course Eva was currently his only friend, so he couldn’t really protest to her presence too much. She was proving to be an ally in helping him become muggle-tolerant enough for the ministry. Although he did secretly commend the Minster of Magic for ensuring her silence through the use of a spell.

“What can I do for you Drake?” she asked enthusiastically. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He hated that she had come up with that nickname, but her ceasing its use was about as likely as her becoming a witch.

“Will you help me find a formal dress for Mrs. Weasley?”

She grinned. “Sure thing!” She turned to the red-headed woman. “What kind of dress are you looking for?”

Mrs. Weasley appeared to still be a bit tongue-tied by Draco’s presence. “I—uh—am not really sure.” She looked around the store wide-eyed.

Eva giggled and he was sure Weasley’s—forget it, she was still _Granger_ in his mind—hand was hiding a small smile. “That’s okay, ma’am. We get a lot of first time customers. What’s the occasion?”

Granger stepped in to help. “We are going to the Muggle Awareness Ball. Molly needs a stunning gown as she will be very much in the spotlight that night.”

“I see, a VIP are you? You’re very lucky Jackie isn’t here or she’d be fawning all over you. She loves celebrities!” Draco mentally cringed. Another quirk about Eva was that she lacked any sense of propriety. “Okay, what will be your main function at the ball? Will you be mingling with other important people, dancing, sitting at a dais…?”

Eva’s southern charm was working its magic on the woman as she visibly relaxed. “Mostly mingling, I suppose. I may have to participate in a few dances, but not many if I have my say!”

“Certainly! Well then, you’ll want something with room to move, with a hem you won’t step on. I’m thinking more along the conservative side. And you would look fabulous in rich tones!” She guided the two Mrs. Weasleys through the formal section. After showing the elder Weasley a few gowns she set her up in a fitting room so she could look for more of what the woman liked. Eva was great at dressing people. Seeing that she had it firmly under control, Draco left her and went to greet a new customer who had walked in.

After sending the young man off with some jeans for his girlfriend, Draco leaned behind the cash register and scanned the empty store. The Weasleys were the only customers at the moment and he was quite bored. Eva seemed to pick up on it and skipped over to him. “They’re deciding between three gowns right now. She’s trying to figure out which one she likes best with the shoes we picked out.” She stared at Draco intently when he shrugged. “I know you could have handled that one yourself. Why’d you pawn it off on me?”

“I thought you might be bored.”

Eva rolled her eyes. “Right. I’m sure it had nothing to do with their connection with your arch-nemesis.”

Draco was not sure which to react to: his surprise at her accuracy or her description of Potter. He decided on the safer route. “Arch-nemesis?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t do that!” Eva snapped. “I hate that ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude of yours. And arch-nemesis is as good a word as any.” She paused and redirected herself. “And yes, I am very observant and read people very well. You were all tension with them. I thought you were used to dealing with people who shared a mutual dislike?”

Draco let out a breath. It may have been mistaken for a sigh if Malfoys did such things. “They’re different.”

“Oh, I’d love to hear that explanation!”

Thankfully he was saved from further interrogation as the Weasleys waved Eva over. The truth was that he couldn’t explain why the Weasleys were different. Ever since the end of the war the Golden Trio made him feel…unworthy. And he hated feeling that way. When he saw them he felt like his sins were written all over his face and that he would never gain the admiration that those three had. And then there was Potter. Potter evoked such intense feelings that Draco could not even begin to name.

Eva was back at the register to ring up the Weasleys’ purchases. “You’re going to be the belle of the ball!” she assured the elder Weasley, who blushed.

Granger turned to Draco. “Will you be attending?” she asked politely.

That was the question Draco had been hoping would not come up. He had not bothered to RSVP, convinced that no one would lose sleep over it. The invitation had been sent for proprietary purposes. All wealthy Wizarding families would have been invited, in hopes that they would fund Muggle Awareness Measures. Now Granger had to bring it up out of some sadistic need to make idle conversation.

Draco shook his head. “I don’t know that I will be able to make it,” he said diplomatically.

“You were invited?” inquired Eva, glaring.

Draco not-sighed. “Yes, I was invited. No, I did not tell you about it. The invitation was made out to my family.”

“I can’t believe you’re not going to take me to this ball! How many times have I told you that I love these kinds of things? I had to miss my prom, if you remember! And you would keep this from me?” She was now in full scene-making mode, and if Draco did not remedy the situation he would be severely embarrassed in front of the Weasleys. That simply would not do.

He turned back to the women, who were watching with poorly concealed amusement. “It seems that my plans have changed and that I will be attending.”

“Well then…” Granger started awkwardly. “We will see you there.” He nodded. She turned to his coworker. “Eva, it was a pleasure meeting you. Thanks for all your help.”

Eva grinned. “My pleasure! Come back and see us again!”

After they left Eva turned back to Draco. “You got off easy, I hope you know. I don’t give a damn about your socio-phobic need to shut yourself away from higher wizarding society. I stayed here because this world amazes me. You are my best friend and it is your duty to ensure my wizarding experience is as rich as possible. Besides,” she said, “you need this. Going to a Muggle Awareness Ball? That’s going to be amazing publicity for your family!”

“She is correct,” was Narcissa’s opinion on the matter at dinner that night. “It will help bolster public opinion about our family, which can only be beneficial.”

“Am I to assume that you will be in attendance?” he asked, spearing a pea with his fork.

“Do not be foolish Draco,” answered his father. “We would be unwelcome at such an event. You are young and easily forgiven. Besides, Eva is a charming woman who will be an asset at this event, despite her…disadvantages.”

Lucius had finally accepted that Draco had a muggle friend. As a rule he could not like her, but his positive appraisal of her personality was a step in the right direction. Still, Draco could not help but shudder at the prospect of the ball. He was sure it would not be enjoyable. It would also require important political finesse. He did not want to draw attention to himself as many people still saw the Malfoys in a negative light. At the same time he would need to be seen so the public would know that Malfoys supported such an event. He frowned as he speared another pea. It was going to be a trying evening indeed.


	2. The Ministry's Giving a Ball!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco escorts Eva to the Muggle Awareness Ball

Draco resisted the urge to flinch as Eva’s fingertips dug into his arm. She was staring at the ballroom in awe, and Draco had to remember that she’d never had the pleasure of attending a wizarding ball. She looked lovely in an ebony gown she’d only been able to afford because of her employee discount. Draco sniffed and decided that that little detail would go unsaid. He himself was well dressed in a charcoal suit with a pale blue shirt. They made an enchanting couple; Draco had made sure of it. If he was going to be dragged to this ball, they were going to look their absolute best.

With a gentle pull he led Eva into the large room. The space was lit with floating candles. Round tables circled a dance floor. The linens were crisp and white, with delicate center pieces. Draco had to give credit to whoever had decorated. The placed looked elegant and grand. He turned his appraising look to the man who approached him.

“May I direct you to your seat, sir?” the man asked politely, unrolling a scroll.

“Please do. Malfoy plus one, if you would.” He could feel Eva rolling his eyes at his command. Honestly, the importance was the phrasing; what difference did it make if he added a question mark?

The man visibly stiffened. “Right this way, Mr. Malfoy.” He inclined his head toward Eva and turned to lead them to their seats. He was surprised when the man stopped at a table near the dance floor. “Please enjoy the ball.” With that he left, seemingly in a hurry to get away from the blond.

Eva looked at Draco in confusion. “How did we manage to get VIP seating?”

The blond shook his head. Surely there had to have been some mistake. No one would mix a Malfoy with the important guests that would be seated nearest the dance floor. The labels next to the place settings said otherwise.

Eva picked up her name card. “Look, they must have paid attention to the receipt.” In neat script her full name was written on the label. “I have to commend them for such attention to detail.”

Deciding not to voice his opinion that the feat was not so great, Draco obligingly pulled out the chair for Eva and waited for her to sit. He took his seat next to her and glanced around the ballroom. Wizards and witches mingled around the tables, taking advantage of the time before the formal ceremonies began. He recognized some of the gowns and suits from the store, even if he didn’t recognize the people wearing them. Looking over the table setting he noted that it achieved a level of intimacy he was not comfortable with. Though the sign of an excellent host was to create such an atmosphere at the separate tables, there was no one with whom Draco needed to have that close a conversation. He was attending mostly for Eva, only mildly curious on his own behalf. He peered at the placard next to his and stopped cold. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he muttered.

Beside him Eva shook her head. “Nuh-uh. You’re not getting out of this that easy. I don’t want to hear anything about a headache, or food-sickness, or any other mysterious illness you might come down with.” She took her eyes away from the mingling wizards and turned to her companion. “Actually, you do look a little pale. Are you okay?

Draco shook his head. “It’s Potter.”

Eva frowned. “What’s a potter?”

“No! I mean…” he trailed off and picked up the placard, handing it to his friend.

“Oh! Harry Potter!” She grinned. “What an interesting turn of events. I wonder if he has anything to do with our seating?”

“Why would Potter purposefully seat me next to him?” But any reply Eva might have had was cut off by the sudden sound of a rather polite voice.

_“If you’ll excuse me ladies and gentlemen?”_ the voice interrupted. Though the speaker was using the Sonorus Charm, his voice was gentle. _“If you would please take your seats? This evening’s program will now begin.”_

A low murmur filled the room as guests ended their conversations and took to their seats. Draco sat stiffly, waiting for the other occupants of their table with some dread. If Potter was seated next to him, it was likely this table would be full of Weasleys. This was truly a fate worse than death for the young man. The Malfoy name was held with some suspicion, but few knew more of what Draco had done during the war than the Golden Trio and their band of red-headed misfits.

It didn’t take long for their seatmates to arrive. Eva jumped out of her chair when she saw Granger and Draco followed suit with a silent groan. He would have gladly stay glued to his seat during this awkward introduction, but proper etiquette forced him to stand with his date.

“Hermione!” she exclaimed.

“Eva!” Granger’s eyes lit with honest pleasure. “I’m so glad you could make it!” She was only slightly taken aback when Eva offered her a quick hug. “What do you think?” She waved a hand to encompass the ballroom.

“It’s beautiful!” said Eva. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Granger smiled kindly and turned to Draco. Her smile grew a bit more strained. “Malfoy. I’m glad you could make it.”

Draco doubted the honesty in the statement, but inclined his head nonetheless. “Weasley. I am surprised at the level of honor you bestowed upon us with these seats.” There mother, he thought weakly. That was incredibly polite.

Granger flushed. “Yes, well, it was Harry’s idea really…”

Her husband came to stand beside her. “Better to keep a close eye on you,” Weasley said evenly, with a slight glare.

Draco nearly jumped at the sound of a sigh behind him. “Really, Ron. Can we be civil for one night?”

The voice was all too familiar to Draco. Though it had deepened slightly with age, there was no mistaking it. He slowly turned to find himself staring into appraising emerald eyes. “Malfoy,” the other greeted.

“Potter.” He nodded politely. A cough sounded beside him and he remembered his date as Potter shifted his gaze to her. “This is Eva Melbourn. Eva, meet Harry Potter.”

She held out a hand and Potter took it. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Potter,” she greeted.

“The same,” Potter said with a strained smile, trepidation apparent.

Draco wanted to roll his eyes. It was so like Potter. Eva was his friend only by her ill luck, and yet she would be judged by what he had done. Not for the first time Draco thought she would have been better with a different guide to the wizarding world. As if reading his thoughts, she turned to him and smiled. “Should we take our seats, I think the introduction is beginning.”

If one wanted to know what was said in the opening speeches, they would have to ask someone other than Draco. He was stiff with anxiety, sneaking glances at his table companions. Besides the Golden Trio, the other seats were occupied by Ginny Weasley, George Weasley, and George’s wife. They all listened to the introductions with interest, though the men eventually seemed to tune out. Draco did note when Arthur Weasley was introduced, as you could not miss the pride that blossomed from the table. It was going to be a long evening indeed.

Eva ended up saving Draco’s sensibilities as she skillfully engaged her companions in conversation. He could see even the Weasel and Potter visibly relax under Eva’s social graces. She had interested everyone in tales from their store, and traded the woes and joys of customer service with the Weasel and his older brother. He inwardly cringed when Eva included him in her stories, but knew that Granger must have told her friends that he worked at a muggle clothing store. It was only a matter of time before someone grew brave enough to ask about it.

“I never thought you’d be selling muggle clothing,” Potter said quietly. It would be Potter who would breach the subject.

With great effort, Draco did not shove a forkful of chicken into his mouth. Though he would have loved to use the excuse to remain silent, proper decorum would not allow it. “I didn’t really have much of a choice,” he replied, feigning great interest in the centerpiece.

Out of his peripheral he saw Potter nod. “I know you had to contribute to the Muggle Awareness Campaign, I just didn’t think you’d choose _that_ kind of job…”

Draco’s fists clenched. Why was it that this man thought he had any right to go digging into Draco’s life? He felt a light pressure on his thigh and turned to his date. She was engaged in a conversation with the Weasel and his wife, but she squeezed his leg in support. She turned to him briefly and smiled. Her face looked carefree but her eyes screamed “behave”.

With a silent intake of breath he turned to Potter and studied his face. Determining that there was nothing malicious to the man’s queries he decided that for tonight he could pretend that he didn’t hate this man. “No one else would hire me,” he said evenly.

Potter frowned and turned away. It seemed even the green-eyed Savior didn’t want to go tripping down memory lane. He felt a sense of relief until he felt three pairs of eyes on him. He turned again to his left to find Eva and the newly married Weasleys looking at him. The Weasel was smirking—not a good look for the red-head. “Your best friend is a muggle?” he asked, holding back a chuckle.

Eva was looking at him, her eyes slightly narrowed. She was insulted but she was going to let Draco handle the situation.

Draco glared at the red-head. “You still lack any sense of propriety,” he said. “Yes, my best friend is a muggle, and I suggest you consider her feelings before you start to tease me.”

The Weasel’s eyes widened and he got a sheepish expression. Granger sighed and placed a hand on Eva’s shoulder. “Eva, we’re sorry. We didn’t mean anything by it. Just surprised is all.” She paused and looked at Draco appraisingly. “It’s not the kind of friends he used to have.”

Eva turned and beamed at Granger. “No offense taken,” Eva said lightly. “I know all about Draco’s past.” She shrugged. “Not a big deal, really.”

Suddenly George’s wife cleared her throat from across the table. She smiled. “They’ve started the orchestra. I believe it’s time to dance.”

Eva turned to Draco, but he shook his head. “You won’t know these dances.” She frowned. “Besides, the ministry officials will take the floor first.”

Sure enough the floor soon filled with those officials in attendance. Draco watched as Molly and Arthur Weasley nervously began the dance. “You really did find a beautiful gown for her,” Draco told his date.

She smiled. “Of course I did. How dare you doubt my abilities!” she scoffed in mock indignation.

Draco’s response was cut short by a chuckle to his right. “Did I just hear you compliment Molly?”

The blond turned to Potter. “I said the dress was beautiful,” he said plainly. He turned back to the dance floor. “But now that you mention it, yes, she does look lovely.” He could feel the black-haired man grin as the orchestra began another tune.

“We really should take one turn around the floor,” he heard the She-Weasley tell Potter. There was a groan but the couple moved to stand up. The other Weasleys did the same, though there was a look of horror on the Weasel’s face. Soon Eva and Draco were the only ones at the table.

“You’re right,” Eva said. “I can’t dance like that.”

Draco snorted and continued to watch the couples glide across the floor. Had life been different, he would have been one required to participate in the dances; he might have even enjoyed it. Now, no one cared to share a dance floor with a Malfoy. He silently thanked his luck. He much preferred the effortless dancing in the clubs Eva had dragged him to over the stiff, choreographed moves of wizarding dance.

The rest of the evening went by uneventfully. After a few turns on the dance floor, the two younger couples rejoined their table. Once in a while George would take the other women for a twirl. Conversation remained light thanks to Eva’s fabulous communication skills. Draco had already known that Potter was an Auror, but was surprised to learn that the Weasel helped his brother run a joke shop in Diagon Alley. The She-Weasley was playing quidditch for the Hollyhead Harpies, and Granger was working for the Ministry of Magic doing something with house-elves.

Their success left Draco with a bad taste in his mouth, making it difficult to continue the charade of friendliness. But Eva’s hand on his knee reminded him that despite the unfortunate twist his life had taken, he had found a wonderful friend. A year ago he would have traded it all in a blink of an eye. Now he understood that somehow, this was a better life for him. It didn’t stop him from hoping he never had to see the horde of Weasleys ever again.

That night he lay in bed, sleepless. He had dutifully seen Eva home and then returned to report to his parents. He knew tomorrow’s Daily Prophet would be filled with headlines about the ball, and his company at the Weasley-Potter table had not gone unnoticed. He thought about what this would mean for him. Jackie would have a fit, of course. Anyone who seemed to have a scent of celebrity was obnoxiously fawned over. Thankfully he and Eva had the next day off, so he could revel alone in his misery.


	3. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Eva deal with the fallout from the Muggle Awareness Ball

It was the morning after the dance when Draco was awoken by a house-elf popping into his room. The elf had waited for Draco to struggle awake before informing him that he was wanted at the breakfast table. The dinette was a small room off of the large kitchen that had floor to ceiling windows looking over the herb garden. It sat catty-corner to the formal dining room, which hadn’t been used in several years. The family took all their meals in the dinette, so Draco was not surprised to see both his parents seated at the table. His mother greeted him with a kiss to the cheek before motioning him to sit down. His father said nothing, simply placing the morning’s Daily Prophet in front of Draco.

Slight fear crept though Draco’s morning fog as he wondered what damning words the periodical contained. With stilling breath he unfolded the paper. It was thicker than usual, which was explained by the animated headline of “Muggle Awareness Ball: Special Edition”. Draco glanced at the front page, relieved to see that an article about Arthur Weasley took up much of the coveted section. He spotted his name in the bottom corner of the paper. The line simply stated that he was in attendance before directing him to the third page. He let out a breath of relief; at least he hadn’t made front page news.

He opened the paper to page three, noticing the second page was dominated by a thorough explanation of the Muggle Awareness Campaign and the purpose of the ball. The larger part of the third page was the obligatory detailing of Harry Potter’s presence at the ball, complete with an interview and animated picture. Three-fourths of the way down was the article bearing the Malfoy name. The title “Draco Malfoy Brings Muggle Date to the Ball” told him all he needed to know. Someone had been listening in on their table’s conversations. The image chosen for the article was one taken just as Eva and Draco entered the ballroom. The photographer had captured Eva’s wide-eyed awe, though Draco’s image contained a rather uncomfortable frown. Though it did nothing to mar his image, Draco was faced with the knowledge of the various thoughts that frown could convey. He would have to be careful of that in the future.

The article was not as damning as he had feared. There was a brief mention of his family’s contributions to the Muggle Awareness Campaign as reparations for their war-time crimes. The bulk of the article was speculation over Draco’s date. He smiled to himself as he thought about how excited Eva would be to see herself in the paper. He had bought her a subscription to the Daily Prophet for her birthday last year, knowing that it was the best way for her to keep informed about the wizarding world. Draco set the paper down and looked at his father as a cup of hot coffee appeared beside a plate of breakfast pastries.

Lucius nodded toward the plate, indicating that Draco was now free to enjoy his breakfast. The elder Malfoy took a sip of his tea—Earl Grey with no cream or sugar—before finally addressing the article. “It seems that the report you gave us last night was quite accurate of the evening.” That was the closest Lucius would ever come to saying “I’m proud of you” and Draco would take it. “The article remains neutral, which means you and Eva conducted yourselves appropriately at the ball.” He took another sip of his tea, the Lucius equivalent of clearing his throat. “The author does seem to spend quite a bit of energy speculating the nature of your relationship with Miss Melbourn. I do hope you have not been withholding information on that particular subject.”

Draco understood what his father was implying and frowned. “We aren’t dating, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Narcissa sniffed at the casual term. “She was your date to the ball, so I believe you misspeak. You mean you are not _courting_ her.” The emphasis was subtle, but there.

The young blond resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, I apologize, Mother. I am not courting Eva. I have no such intentions now or in the future.”

“That is a relief,” Lucius said, abruptly ending that vein of conversation.

Draco really wanted to smack himself in the forehead, a habit he had picked up from Eva. It seemed Lucius had finally admitted the benefits of Draco’s friendship with Eva, but that friendship would have to end there. That would never be a problem, though Draco was not yet ready to reveal _that_ particular fact to either of his parents.

“I do wonder as to the reasoning behind placing you with the family of the guests of honor,” Narcissa inquired softly.

A slight narrowing of the eyes conveyed that Lucius was also thinking of that political move. He shook his head. “I cannot see what personal benefit the Weasleys could have gained from such a move.”

Draco almost chuckled. His father still had a hard time understanding that not every decision made was based on political gains. “I think Hermione Weasley had a hand in the seating chart. I believe Potter and Weasley wanted to keep a close eye on me.”

Narcissa nodded. “A decision based solely on their own emotions with no attention to the possible ramifications.” It was an insult, though few would have picked up on it.

Draco hummed in agreement. “Whatever the motive behind the decision, it does nothing to harm the Malfoy name in public opinion. If it has any effect at all, it can only be for the positive.”

“You are certain they were unable to glean any information from you during the conversations?” Lucius asked.

This time Draco did chuckle. “They are hardly expert interrogators,” he said disdainfully. “And the only information they picked from me was my current employment.”

“You would do well to remember that Mr. Potter is an Auror.”

“I do realize that, Father,” Draco said stiffly, finishing the last of his pastries. “He did not elicit any information from me that I would not want him to have.”

“Can you say the same of Miss Melbourn?” Narcissa asked.

Draco bristled. “She is not as clumsy as you believe,” he simply said. After the necessary polite comments and requests, he was gladly dismissed from the table. He walked toward his bedroom, mind full of defenses for his best friend. Yes, she was muggle, but she had proven herself to be a worthy friend. Draco could admit that she lacked the social graces with which pureblood wizards were raised, but she made up for it with her own skillful talents. She was fiercely loyal to Draco; and Slytherin or not, he could do nothing but return the favor. It irked him that his parents had yet to see the extraordinary woman Eva was, but he had to remind himself that they silently approved of the relationship—and that was saying a lot.

With a sigh he thought about flooing his friend, but decided against it. He needed to spend the day thinking about the possible ramifications of his attendance at the ball and creating plans of action should any of the possibility prove true. Eva would probably need a day to digest everything she had seen at the ball anyway. He loved his friend, but he was in no mood to listen to her ramble about the very things around which Draco had lived his entire life.

The next morning Draco had to contend with Jackie’s predictable fascination for all things celebrity. She plagued him with questions about the attendees of the ball. Did he really sit next to Harry Potter? Did he get to meet Arthur Weasley? Why didn’t he tell her he was _that_ Draco Malfoy? How many people wore clothes from Jackie’s Junction? He was only saved when Eva’s shift started an hour later and Jackie turned her prying questions to her. Eva was all too happy to go over every little detail about the ball. Draco shook his head and blocked out their incessant chatter.

As Draco had feared, the article in the Daily Prophet had sparked the curiosity of several readers. The larger than usual crowd was good for business, but bad for Draco’s sanity.  Very few people were brave enough to approach the blond, but the poorly hidden glances and muted whispers were giving him a headache. He severely hoped that the attention would not give Jackie more reason to go prying into his past. She was selfish enough to not give a second thought to her employees’ lives, but she loved good celebrity gossip. A much younger Draco would have loved the spotlight; but Draco was now much wiser and more conservative, and preferred to fly under the radar. He did not need his work days to be plagued by Jackie’s need for useless information. He had been happy with Jackie’s disinterest in him; he did not want that to change.

Eva returned to the counter with a frown, successfully interrupting Draco’s brooding. “If one more person tries to get in here with a camera, I will personally hex them into next year!”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You can’t hex anyone.”

“And why not?”

“Because you’re a muggle.”

The statement took all the air out of Eva’s building tantrum. “Okay, so I can’t hex them. But I will take their cameras and chuck them to the ground before stomping the life out of them!”

Draco rolled his eyes at the declaration. People had made several attempts at snapping pictures of Eva and Draco, but the staff had been persistent about informing those customers that photos could not be taken within the store. Though Jackie thrived on all things celebrity, even she was not willing to risk a potential rival having physical documentation of her inventory and floor displays. Despite their best efforts, Draco was sure there had been a few successful photographers.

“What time is it?” Eva asked grumpily as she glared at an awe-filled seven-year-old.

A quick _tempus_ revealed that it was nearly time to close the store, and Draco almost sighed in relief. “Why don’t you just buy a watch?” he asked his friend.

“ _You_ don’t have a watch,” she accused.

“ _I_ can perform a _tempus_ charm.”

“Well aren’t you special?” she spat before heading off to scare lingering customers out of the store. Draco shook his head in confusion. Eva had been in a bad mood all day and he could not figure out why. He thought she would still be on a high from the ball and would be thrilled with the attention she was receiving. Whenever he asked her what was wrong she would brush him off. As he prepared to close down the registers he decided that he was going to have to force Eva to a cup of coffee.

Later that evening coffee had turned into dinner and drinks. Draco had managed to turn Eva’s mood around, though she had yet to disclose what had been bothering her. After the third round of drinks she had begun retelling a story she had heard from Granger at the ball. Draco had been too busy moping at the time to have heard it. Though he didn’t want to find anything the witch had to say entertaining, he had to admit that Weasley would look rather atrocious with a yellow face—well, more atrocious anyway.

“Remind me not to go shopping at the Weasley store,” Draco said as Eva finished the story.

She grinned. “I wouldn’t think you’d step foot in that store.”

Draco shrugged. “As unpleasant as I find the lot, they are the best prank shop in Britain.”

Eva smirked. “Did you just compliment them?”

With a sneer Draco finished off the last of his martini. The bartender quickly replaced it. Draco snatched the toothpick filled with olives before Eva could attempt to steal them. “Mind telling me just what had you all pissy today?” He was done talking about red-headed demons.

Eva shifted uneasily. “I wasn’t pissy,” she muttered.

He snorted. “Of course not.”

She punched his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.” She sighed. “I’ve just had something on my mind is all.”

“I can see how that would distress you.”

She punched him again. “Why do I even hang out with you?”

“Because I’m oh so charming.” He smiled to prove his point. “But seriously, what’s bothering you?”

After a glance around the bar area she hopped down from the counter. “Let’s go back to my place.”

Draco laughed as he thought about how the invitation might sound to an outsider. He downed his martini and slapped a few galleons on the counter. After a suggestion that the bartender keep the change, he let Eva pull him out of the bar and to the nearest floo location.

They arrived at her apartment and Draco collapsed onto the couch. “I am so glad I connected you to the floo network.”

Eva walked to her bedroom, presumably to change her clothes. “Doubting your apparation skills?” she called.

“A side-along after a few drinks is a recipe for disaster,” he criticized. Sometimes he felt like he had to treat the woman like a five-year-old.

She came out of the bedroom in a t-shirt and a pair of sweats. “Don’t drink and apparate,” Eva said chuckling to herself. “I would hate to lose a limb, so I’ll stop teasing you.”

Draco didn’t quite understand what had to be a muggle reference, but he was too intrigued by the parchment in Eva’s hand to question it. “What is that?”

“A piece of parchment.”

“Obviously.”

Eva plopped down beside Draco. “It’s a letter.”

“I thought muggles didn’t use parchment?”

“They don’t. This is a letter from a wizard.”

Draco placed a hand over his heart and feigned surprise. “Are you cheating on me?”

“Hardly,” Eva responded, rolling her eyes at his theatrics. “I’ve been researching something and sent a letter to a name I came across. He owled me back.” Her eyes glittered.

“That’s what had you moody all day?” Draco asked, confused.

“Yes, and no,” Eva said, biting her lip. “I’ve been antsy which is what made me ‘pissy’,” she explained, complete with air-quotes. “He confirmed what I had suspected, but it makes any action…complicated.”

“You can stop being vague now,” Draco said, growing frustrated.

With a sigh Eva reached under the couch and pulled out a notebook. The edges of the pages were worn; a sure sign the notebook had been heavily used. It was opened to a page that had scribbles, diagrams, and foreign letters strewn across it. She looked directly into Draco’s curios eyes. “Have you ever heard of the Enchanted Stone?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A note about Lucius: I am quite aware that Book 7 makes it very clear that Lucius loves his son dearly. However, I doubt that his character is very forthcoming when it comes to direct expressions of love and pride. I think he would find indirect ways to communicate his love for both Draco and Narcissa, and Draco would understand it as he grew up with that kind of communication.


	4. The Enchanted Stone

Somewhere in the background a clock ticked in the sudden silence filling the apartment. Though it lasted only a few seconds, it seemed to stretch forever. Draco studied his friend carefully. “The Enchanted Stone?” he asked. He tried to remember all the stories he’d heard of magical artifacts; though there were many magical stones, he could not recall one that went by such a name.

Eva nodded. “Yeah. Have you heard of it?”

Blond hair fell into grey eyes as Draco shook his head. “Is this a reference to one of your muggle fairy tales?” That would certainly explain why he hadn’t heard of it. He liked to consider himself very well-educated when it came to magic.

His friend snorted. “No, although I can see how you would think that.” She frowned. “The actual name of the stone is the Cintamani. Although most people can’t pronounce that and it has largely become known as the ‘Enchanted Stone’.”

“Right,” Draco said, wondering why this would have Eva in such a mood. “So what is this ‘Cintamani’?” he asked, carefully pronouncing the word. “What is that, Gaelic?” He hadn’t heard of that name either and had to admit that there were likely many foreign artifacts that he knew little about.

Eva rolled her eyes. “Your language knowledge sucks. It’s Sanskrit.” She plopped the notebook in his lap. “In Hindu mythology the Enchanted Stone was given as a gift from the sky to the king of Tibet. It’s said that the person who possesses the Enchanted Stone will be granted anything they wish for.”

“Mythology, right?” Draco asked, frowning. “That means it’s not true, doesn’t it?” He was growing more confused as the conversation continued.

“Do you want to know what else is considered mythology by muggles?” Draco raised an eyebrow, so Eva continued. “Witches, wizards, giants, trolls, elves, goblins, hippogriffs, basilisks, mermaids, magic wands—I think you get the idea. There are a lot of things muggles brush off as nonexistent that are actually real.”

Draco shook his head. “It just sounds like another version of our Deathly Hallows.”

“The Deathly Hallows are real!”

Another raised eyebrow.

Eva leveled a look at her blond friend. “I know you were a bit distracted at the time, but you do know that Voldemort tried to use the Elder Wand against Harry?”

A chill went down Draco’s back at the mention of the name, and the shudder that followed had nothing to do with his usual theatrics. He thought back to his sixth and seventh years, and recalled the horror of that time. He still struggled with nightmares of the things he’d been forced to do under the Dark Lord’s service. “Please don’t say his name,” Draco whispered.

“I’ll say his name whenever I damn please!” she snapped. “He’s dead. Stop letting him control you.”

Draco unconsciously gripped his wrist where the Dark Mark was hidden beneath long sleeves. “You weren’t there Eva. You didn’t have to live through it.”

She sighed. “I know that,” she said sympathetically. “Look that’s not the point. The point is he wielded the Elder Wand and the only reason Harry was able to defeat him was because the wand recognized Harry as its true owner. It wouldn’t work against him.”

A blank stare met her explanation. “How do you even know that?” Draco asked in surprise. He tried to remember the Dark Lord’s wand. He had gone through several once he knew his own would not work against Potter. Even Lucius’s wand had been taken. It had eventually been returned, but after the Dark Lord’s fall the elder Malfoy had quickly replaced it. Draco tried to picture the last wand the evil wizard had wielded, but could not get the memory to focus. He had been a bit preoccupied at the time.

Eva responded to his question with a blank stare of her own. “I thought it was general knowledge.”

Draco shook his head. “No. No, I’ve never heard that version of events.”

Full lips pressed together as Eva hummed. “Well, I’m sure I heard it somewhere…”

“I think someone was putting you on,” Draco said defiantly. That surely had to be it. “I mean, what of the Cloak of Invisibility and the Resurrection Stone?”

Eva shrugged. “I don’t know Draco. I’m just telling you what I heard. Ask Harry if they’re real if you don’t believe me.” She sniffed. “But in the meantime, we’re not talking about the Deathly Hallows. We’re talking about the Enchanted Stone.”

“Which still sounds like a fairy tale,” Draco protested. He studied his friend. “What are you doing looking into it anyway?”

Eva sighed. “It can grant any wish.”

Draco shook his head. “If that’s all there is to it, why isn’t everyone out looking for the Enchanted Stone?”

“It’s not so simple,” Eva said, taking the notebook back from Draco. “For one, only a small number of people actually know of its rumored existence. And those who do are hesitant to find it because of its supposed curse.”

“The Enchanted Stone is cursed?” There went another eyebrow lift.

Eva shrugged. “So they say. Apparently anyone who has actually used the stone lived a rather short life. So, no one really wants to have it.”

“But imminent death doesn’t deter you?” Even if he didn’t believe the stone was real, he didn’t want his friend to die should he be proven wrong. There were many people who considered him a right bastard, but he did actually care about his friends. Besides, if Eva died he would once again be alone, and that was not an attractive future.

“That’s another thing I’ve been researching,” she said, shaking Draco from his dark thoughts. She began turning the pages in her notebook. Each page was covered in messily scrawled notes. “From what I can gather, the real danger of the stone is greed. The people who search for the stone do it for selfish reasons. They’re never satisfied with what they wish for and always want more. So they make so many wishes and become so obsessed with material wealth that they become insane. They either kill themselves out of madness or they die of starvation because they forget to focus on reality.” She took a moment to scan a paragraph of notes. “The stories are actually very sad. They push everyone away so that by the time they’re in real trouble, no one is there to save them.”

“I’m sure plenty of them died from murder too,” Draco said, frowning in thought. “You know, because someone else wanted the stone.”

Eva nodded. “Yeah, that goes without saying. Also, sometimes if the stone was stolen but the person survived the robbery, they died of grief.”

“And you want to bring all of this on yourself. Why?”

She sighed. “I only want to make one wish.”

Draco’s face went ashen and he jumped from the couch and stared at his friend in panic. “Eva!” he exclaimed. “You cannot bring people back from the dead. Even if it was somehow possible—which it’s not—it would create all kinds of irreversible problems!”

Eva glared at her best friend. “Calm down you idiot,” she said sternly, pulling the wild blond back onto the sofa. “I’m not trying to raise my parents from the dead. I’m not stupid.” She shook her head. “No, I want to become a witch.”

Now Draco truly studied his friend. He had often wondered what it must be like for Eva. She was surrounded by magic every day, knowing that she would never be able to yield it. He could certainly understand the desire. He even supported it, if it was actually possible. He was _not_ convinced Eva could wish herself into a witch, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to encourage what was likely a lost cause.

“I certainly don’t blame you,” Draco said carefully, taking time to pick a piece of lint from his shirt. “But I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“Well, I’m not really asking for your approval,” Eva said testily. “But I would like you to come with me.”

Though not surprised that Eva would want his help, he was not expecting any real travel would be necessary. He thought back to everything they had discussed about the stone. He remembered she mentioned Sanskrit and Tibet. Surely she wasn’t thinking of traveling to South Asia. That _would_ be madness. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

Eva’s eyes lit up. “That’s what’s had me so antsy today!” She retrieved the parchment she had carried earlier. “The wizard I told you about?”

She was cut off by Draco. “That’s another thing. Who is this wizard? You can’t just go trusting people you read about. Have you ever met the man? Does he know you’re a muggle? He could be luring you into a trap.” His imagination fed him images of Eva tied up and tortured. He shuddered, remembering what the Death Eaters had done to some muggles.

The young woman groaned. “For the love of god, Draco! I’m not an idiot. Of course I’ve looked into it. He’s a scholar on magical artifacts that originate in Asia. And yes, he knows I’m a muggle. I had to tell him why I was looking for the stone or he wouldn’t give me any information. And he is highly acclaimed in his work. Several sources verify what a kind man he is.” She blew her bangs from her face. “So calm the fuck the down. Do you want to hear what he said or not?”

Momentarily appeased, Draco nodded carefully. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he certainly didn’t want Eva going into dangerous situations by herself. He was not courageous by any means, but he did owe a lot to the muggle.

Eva’s eyes lit up again. “He’s convinced that the Enchanted Stone is still in India!”

There was really nothing that could have kept Draco calm at that moment, except perhaps his father’s glare. However, the Malfoy patriarch was not in the vicinity, so Draco was allowed to enter into a full panic. “Are you insane?” he shouted, jumping up from the sofa again. “I can’t go to India! _You_ can’t go to India.” He began pacing. “First of all, your magical sanctuary is restricted to Britain. Second of all, how in Merlin’s name are you going to travel there? And as if that wasn’t enough, do you really think the ministry is going to let me go traipsing off to exotic places in search of a magical artifact? I need _permission_ to travel, Eva. If I went to them with this they’d likely throw me in Azkaban. And you may very well go into St. Mungo’s. They’d think I imperio’d you to do my bidding and I was after some relic to conduct some sort of Dark Magic. Absolutely not, Eva. I cannot possibly do it. I won’t.”

Eva jumped up and grabbed his shoulders. “What are you going on about? You’re catastrophizing again. You always think of the worst case scenarios. It’s not like we have to tell them what we’re doing. We want to go on a vacation. They would give me clearance through the Indian Ministry of Magic as a gesture of goodwill. The Indian and British ministries have a very good relationship you know? I already looked into it.”

“Why would a Malfoy want to vacation in India?”

At this Eva blinked. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Draco sniffed. “It is not my preferred locale.”

“Come on Draco!” Eva whined. “Don’t you want to know if the stone is real? Think of the excitement, Draco! The thrill of the hunt!”

“I’ve had enough excitement for several lifetimes, thank you very much.” He recalled his years before Potter’s victory and the court cases that followed.

“You will always live in interesting times,” Eva responded with a smirk. She looked at him mysteriously.

“Merlin, don’t curse me!” Draco groaned, hiding a shudder. He collapsed onto the sofa.

A grin lit Eva’s face. She had already won this battle. Now she just had to wait for Draco to realize it.

“We still have to figure out how to get the ministry to allow _me_ to travel to India,” Draco finally said.

Eva frowned. “You don’t think they’ll let you go on vacation?” she asked seriously.

“I doubt they’d let me out of range of the ministry’s oversight.”

Eva smirked; a look that she had undoubtedly inherited from the blond. “So we convince them to give us a babysitter.”

He snorted. “And how do you suppose we’ll be able to look for anything with a ministry goon looking over our shoulders?”

The smirk deepened. “We appeal to someone with a strong sense of adventure.”

Draco studied his friend carefully. “You cannot be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“And why not?”

“It will never work.”

“Why not?”

“You’re insane.”

She grinned evilly. “That’s quite possible.”

“I’m not winning this one, am I?”

“Now you’re learning.”


	5. Wanderlust

 

Draco was not convinced that this was a good idea. He had a long list of things that could possibly go wrong. He hadn’t voiced those concerns to Eva, knowing she would accuse him of being overdramatic. Despite the common accusation, Draco had some very legitimate fears about this plan. Yet there he stood in Auror Potter’s office, asking him to play chaperon to their Indian vacation.

“You want to go to India?” Potter asked. He looked back and forth between the two with a frown.

Eva grinned and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Yes.”

“And you want me to go with you?” he deadpanned. He frowned at Eva’s nod. “Why?”

“Don’t you want to go to India?” Eva asked.

Potter leaned back in his chair. “I’ve never really thought about it,” he admitted.

Eva rolled her eyes. “What is it with wizards and a lack of desire to travel?” she asked exasperatedly.

Draco shook his head at his friend’s antics. “Not everyone has your inability to stay still for any prolonged period of time.” He leaned against the wall and studied his nails, effectively displaying that he was unconcerned about this conversation. Every good Slytherin knew how to lie.

Eva frowned at him. “We are not having another debate over the possible existence of my ADD,” she snapped.

“What’s ADD?” Potter asked.

Draco smirked. “Attention Deficit Disorder. It’s a muggle disease that Eva struggles with on a daily basis.”

“I do not have ADD!” She stuck her tongue at the blond who just chuckled. He turned it into a cough when he noticed the look on Potter’s face. Eva turned back to the auror. “So, how about it?”

“Huh?” Potter asked intelligently.

Eva sighed. “Are you interested in going to India with us?”

He studied Eva and Draco could see the wheels turning in that thick head. Potter opened his mouth, but his reply was cut off by the sound of clicking heels approaching the doorway. “Harry, I need a word with you.”

“Hi Hermione!” Eva exclaimed, turning as the witch entered the office.

Granger blinked in surprise. “Hello Eva,” she greeted. “Draco. What are you doing here?”

Draco’s mouth remained tight at the mention of his first name. He did not consider their relationship one that required first names. He actually preferred that their relationship remain nonexistent. “We have something to discuss with Potter,” he responded in a clipped tone.

“Hermione,” Eva started, with a much too sweet smile in Draco’s direction. A sense of foreboding settled in the blond’s stomach. “How would you like to go to India?”

Draco nearly choked on his own spit. “Eva,” he hissed. He was going to kill her.

The brunette ignored him. “Draco and I are planning a vacation to India. We came to appeal to Harry’s wanderlust so the Ministry will let Draco go. I’m sure we’d love to have you join us!”

Granger frowned in mild disbelief. “I’m not entirely sure I believe that,” she responded bluntly, glancing at the blond wizard. Draco noted that the witch at least had marginal observation skills.

Eva’s eyes widened before she turned to Draco. She rolled her eyes. “Oh, him? Ignore him; he really has no say in the matter. I know _I_ would love to have you!” Eva changed tactics and pulled out the full force of her pleading eyes. “Please, Hermione! You just have to come! I really want to go to India. And if you come I just know Harry will and then the Ministry will let Draco go!” She took Granger’s hand in both of hers. “I’ve always wanted to go to India, and I know Draco would benefit from a vacation. Please Hermione?”

Her incessant babbling was giving Draco a headache, and he had to use all his social graces to keep his face neutral. A pained frown was desperately trying to break through, but Draco would not give it the satisfaction. For Eva’s plebian—yet clearly effective—tactic to work, he needed to remain nonthreatening. He didn’t want Granger coming along on this trip, but he really had no choice if it was the only way to get Potter to agree. He could already see the witch’s posture change. The battle was all but won.

“I’d have to ask Ron,” she said with some hesitation.

“Excellent!” Eva exclaimed, beaming at her newly proclaimed friend. “He can come too. It’ll be so much fun. I can’t wait!” Draco severely doubted that.

Potter shook his head in obvious disbelief. “So…I guess we’re going to India?”

Eva squealed and Draco couldn’t help but smirk. “Don’t you have to clear your plans with your own significant other?” he asked, voice filled with boredom. He feigned disinterest, but for some reason his heart had sped up.

The dark-haired wizard frowned. “I’m sure I don’t know who you’re talking about?”

Draco studied his fingernails. “I was under the impression you were dating the she-Weasley?” That particular nickname earned him a jab in the ribs from his supposed best friend.

“You mean Ginny?” Potter asked, brows knitted together. “We’re just friends.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at that little tidbit of information, but otherwise made no further comment. That decision certainly had nothing to do with the steely gaze coming from his right. Eva may not have been a witch, but she could still be menacing; though one would be hard-pressed to get Draco to admit it aloud.

In the end, Eva’s plan worked out perfectly. The Weasel was ecstatic to go on vacation to India, though he wasn’t overly enthused about the company. It had been ridiculously easy to get the Ministry to agree, though Draco wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Once Potter vouched for Draco and Eva and promised to watch their every step, the Minister himself had distributed visas to them. The ministry in India was given advance notice of their arrival. After a signed declaration from Draco that he would behave himself, they’d been released to go pack for their journey.

~*~

Draco watched as Eva stared grumpily at the wall before her. She took a sip of her Styrofoam encased coffee and stretched her neck. He smirked, feeling just a little vindicated at her discomfort. She was the reason he was feeling the same, after all.

It had been a long journey thus far, and they weren’t even halfway there. Draco and Eva had met up with the trio in Dover before boarding a ferry to cross the English Channel. The general consensus had been that it was too risky to let Draco apparate outside the reaches of the British Ministry. The blond was not pleased with the restriction, but had consented to what Eva argued was a fair stipulation. Unfortunately, that meant that the journey to India was going to be quite the trek.

Upon reaching the continent, the group had boarded a train to Paris. After a quick lunch at a sidewalk café, they had headed to the station that would take them from Paris to India. It was here that Eva’s lack of sleep started to show itself. She had gotten into an argument with Draco about the supposed existence of Platform 16 ½. Now she stubbornly refused to follow through with what she had been told to do.

“You want me to run straight into a wall?” she asked testily. “I’m not in the mood for your jokes, Malfoy.”

Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose, his nerves fraying at the ridiculous argument. “I want you to run _through_ it,” he said through gritted teeth. He remembered his previous description of Eva as a five-year-old when it came to explaining magic, and he heartily agreed with it. As surprising as many people might find it, Draco was actually quite good with children. Of course, that was after a good night’s sleep, a proper breakfast, and when the child was not encased in the body of a grown woman.

Granger, being the member of the group experiencing the least of the strain, decided to step in. “You guys are causing a scene,” she warned. “Eva, I’ll go through first to show you. Keep a tight grip on your ticket as that will allow you through the wall.” She nodded to her husband and friend before calmly walking toward the wall.

Eva blinked in startled amazement. She whipped her head around to see if anyone else had witnessed a woman disappearing into the wall. The muggles in the station were paying no attention to their ragtag group. It seemed no one had seen Granger, as Draco knew they wouldn’t. Eva had long ago stopped asking how wizards had stayed hidden for centuries; but such obvious ignorance apparently left her flabbergasted.

With a slight shake of his head, Draco surreptitiously waved his wand at Eva. He waited for her to feel the effects of the spell. After a moment she turned to him. “What’d you just do?” she asked.

Draco sighed, his exhaustion causing him to momentarily forget that Malfoys were above such things. “I cast a Notice-Me-Not spell. You’re gawking is going to draw attention that we don’t need. Now get through the wall so we can get going. We’re going to miss the train.”

She glared at him, but pushed her cart toward the wall. Draco watched as she gripped her ticket tightly in hand before swiftly walking straight through the wall. As she disappeared, Draco could only hope that Granger was ready to calm his friend on the other side.

“Move it, Malfoy,” Weasley snarled, pushing him out of the way.

Draco glared at the disappearing red-head.

“Ignore him,” Potter suggested. “He’s awful when he hasn’t slept.”

“Aren’t we all,” Draco muttered to himself, before going through the wall himself.

His eyes immediately flew to Eva as he entered the platform. Seeing that she seemed composed he took out his wand and lifted the spell. “You really need to learn the art of subtlety,” he admonished coolly.

Eva simply stuck her tongue at the blond.

“Now children,” Potter said, having stepped through the entrance in time to see the exchange.

Draco bristled at the bad joke. “I’m hardly a child, Potter,” he said disdainfully, crossing his arms. He could feel Eva’s glare, but that just further aggravated him. She had no right to be this grumpy. This entire journey was her fault.

Potter sent them both a pleading look. “Can we please just board this train before it leaves without us? It’s going to be a long ride so we can all catch up on some much needed sleep.”

Eva huffed before spinning on her heel and heading to the train. She left her bags behind in her hurry to find a suitable seat. “And I suppose I’ll just carry these for you, shall I?” Draco called after her. He rolled his eyes before shrinking both their luggage. “I did not sign up to be this woman’s manservant,” he said petulantly.

“Don’t ever get married, Malfoy,” Weasley snorted. That earned an elbow jab from his wife. “It’s just a joke,” he grumbled.

Potter sighed. “Let’s just board. We certainly don’t want Eva surrounded by unknown witches and wizards.”

That statement had Draco heading for the train in a hurry, regardless of his present irritation with the muggle woman. He was not about to let her leave him alone with the trio that lived to hate him. Maybe a small part of him was concerned with her safety. A very small part. He boarded the train and searched the compartment for his friend. He spotted her messy braid and moved toward her seat.

“This entire thing was your idea,” he reminded her as she glared up at him.

She snorted and turned to the window. “Shut up, Malfoy.”

Draco sniffed and collapsed in the chair beside her. He would love to put some distance between them, but the only other open seat was next to Potter, and he was not about to subject himself to _that._ As the train began to move, he tried to get comfortable without touching his friend. He knew he was being childish, but dammit, he was tired and grumpy. If Eva could be pissy when she had orchestrated the entire journey, then Draco was certainly allowed to be the same.

~*~

Draco stretched after a long nap he had seriously needed. He looked out the window at the passing landscape. Despite the available wall next to Eva—as she had insisted on the window seat—her head was taking up residence on Draco’s shoulder. His arm was going numb but he didn’t so much as fidget. He’d had enough of Eva’s temper that morning.

He glanced to his right and saw Potter stretched out over two seats he’d managed to secure for himself. Draco envied the room the other man currently had. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Weasleys cuddled together in the seats behind Potter. He turned back to the scenery to avoid the sickness he would surely feel if he saw anymore visions of the couple’s romantic gestures. He idly wondered if Potter didn’t feel like a bit of a third wheel at times. He gazed at his companion again. On this particular trip Potter may very well be the fifth wheel. Perhaps it would have been better if the She-Weasley had joined their vacation. The thought had Draco immediately nauseated and he finally did jostle his shoulder.

“Wha—?” Eva mumbled. She looked at her surroundings, startled. Her wide eyes found Draco. “Jeesh! What’d you do that for?”

“I need coffee,” he said, moving to stand.

“So you needed to elbow me in the head?” she asked incredulously.

Draco snorted. “Hardly. You fell asleep on my shoulder, thereby preventing me from getting up.” He sniffed and moved toward the refreshment cart.

“I’ll join you,” Eva said, hastily following the blond.

Once secured with their beverages, the friends sat across from one another at a table. “I don’t think we’ll have very many opportunities to be alone,” Eva said.

Draco took a sip of his blessedly black coffee. “This was your idea,” he reminded her.

She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.” She drummed her fingers on the table and hummed. “I mean that I’d like to take this moment to go over the plan.”

“There’s a plan?” The corresponding raised eyebrow spoke to his doubt.

Eva glared. “All right. General direction, if you will.”  She took a sip of her tea. “We’ll be staying a few days in New Delhi. We need to do typical touristy stuff.”

Draco nodded. “Better to keep to our cover story. No need to raise suspicions so early in the trip.”

“Exactly. Besides, when might we ever get another chance to travel to India?”

The blond rolled his eyes. “I have plenty of resources—“

“And very few opportunities!” Eva snapped, effectively cutting him off. “At any rate after a few days site-seeing, we’ll be meeting up with my wizarding source.”

“How are we going to explain that, exactly?”

“I’m working on it,” she said, nibbling her bottom lip. “After we meet with him we’ll figure out our next moves.”

Pale lips narrowed as Draco thought about their options. “This plan sucks,” he decided.

Eva shrugged. “It’s as good as we’re gonna get. I won’t know where the stone is until I meet with my source.”

Draco’s response was interrupted by a bleary-eyed Potter. “There you two are,” he said, before throwing himself in the seat next to Eva. “I was wondering where you got to.”

“Afraid we ran off?” Draco asked, a slight sneer on his lips. If he survived this journey, he would vow to never again spend extended time with his long-time rival.

Potter shook his head, seemingly unfazed by Draco’s tone. “Just wondering.” He waved one of the bar staff over to order his own coffee. In a flash he had his own steaming cup of java.

Draco watched as the dark-haired man poured sugar and cream into his mug. “What is the point of drinking coffee if you’re only going to ruin the flavor?” he asked in disgust.

Eva rolled her eyes. “Ignore him Harry,” she suggested. “We always have this argument and he has yet to realize he will never win.” She looked at her friend. “What kind of steel taste-buds do you have to have to drink your coffee black?”

The blond refused to respond to such a silly question. Instead he took a dramatic sip of his _black_ coffee before turning his gaze out the windows. “How long before we get to India?” he asked.

Eva grinned. “Don’t worry Dray, we’ll have plenty of quality time together!”

“Dray?” Potter asked with a chuckle.

Draco glared at his friend. “For the love of Merlin! Will you stop calling me all these horrid nicknames?”

“I think it’s endearing,” Potter said, hiding his amusement behind his mug.

“Stop twinkling!” Draco demanded.

“Twinkling?” Harry asked.

Green eyes glittered behind thick glasses and Draco was reminded of his late headmaster. “Yes! You have that damn twinkle in your eye! I won’t stand for it!”

“Draco, dear, you’re sounding insane,” Eva said soothingly. She placed a hand on his arm.

“I’ll sound insane if I bloody want to!”

Unfortunately Potter had chosen that exact moment to take another sip of his coffee. The burning liquid never completed its journey as at Draco’s declaration it was unceremoniously spewed from Potter’s mouth and into Draco’s face. This left Eva in a fit of hysterics. She clutched her sides and collapsed onto the bench. Potter couldn’t decide whether to choke on the little liquid that did make it down or apologize profusely to Draco. As for Draco, he cleaned his face with a quick spell and silently swore vengeance on the wizard and the muggle who claimed to be his best friend.


	6. Namaste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to take the time to point out that I have never been to India. As such, any descriptions of the group’s travels from here on are the result of: my own limited experience with international travel, the internet, and a healthy dose of imagination. My apologies if they fall short of anyone’s personal experiences.

A spasm went through Draco’s hand as his friend clenched it beneath her own. He was glad that their luggage was shrunken and securely in his pockets. The train station was a blur of activity as passengers escaped the confines of the train. He felt a brief touch on his shoulder and turned to find overwhelmed green eyes seeking his attention. Harry nodded his head in the direction of the floos and Draco nodded. No words were used as they would have been lost in the jumbled noise of the platform. Draco tugged Eva toward the floos and cautiously wove them through the crowd. He kept his free hand over the pocket containing their luggage remembering Eva’s warning about pickpockets.

The floo area was surprisingly calm in comparison. Behind them families reunited and friends greeted one another. The line in front of the fireplaces was short. Eva let out a relieved sigh. “I say we get to the inn and not leave it until tomorrow.”

Granger nodded in grateful agreement. “It’s all a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

“What’s the name of the inn again?” Potter asked.

“The Traveler’s Broomstick,” Draco answered.

Harry nodded. “Okay,” he said, pulling on his ministry cap. “I’ll go through first, followed by Draco and Eva. Then Ron and Hermione can come through.”

“Just can’t help but give orders, can you Potter?” Draco sneered. He noticed that his first name had been used but decided to ignore it. He would not encourage this new fascination with seeming chummy that seemed to be plaguing two-thirds of the Golden Trio.

His thoughts were cut short by a jab to his ribs. Eva glared at him. “He promised the ministry he’d keep an eye on us. This is the best way for him to do that.”She frowned at Draco’s glare. “He’s the reason we’re able to be here. Show a little gratitude!”

“Gratitude?” Draco asked incredulously. “I’m only here because of you.”

Potter, seemingly frustrated with their constant arguing, shook his head. “That’s fine. I don’t need gratitude. I just need to get out of this bloody station. I’m going through. If you don’t follow shortly after, Ron has permission to hex you.”

Weasley grinned at that prospect. Draco looked down his nose and was about to retort when Eva cut in. “We’ll be right behind you Harry. I’m sure we could all use a shower and meal on non-moving ground.”

She pushed him toward the floo before Draco could involve him in another argument. “Safe flooing!” she said with a wink.

Draco watched as Potter shook his head before throwing down a handful of floo powder and calling out his destination. In a flash of green, he was gone.

“That is so weird to watch,” Eva said.

“Let’s just get going,” Draco responded, grabbing Eva by the elbow. Once situated in the fireplace—it was always tricky flooing with a second person—Draco wrapped his arm around Eva’s waste and gathered a handful of floo powder. After making sure Eva was secure he shouted their destination.

Eva ran into Potter as she tumbled out of the floo. Draco shook his head and gracefully stepped out of the floo to help his friend straighten up. “Really, Eva, you’d think you’d be used to this,” he said disdainfully. Eva sneezed in response.

“Oh, are you all together?” an older man asked excitedly. Their entrance seemed to have cut off a conversation between him and Potter.

Eva sorted herself and stepped forward. “Yes, another two will be following. Are you Mr. Gutma?” The man nodded. “I’m Eva Melbourn and this is Draco Malfoy. We spoke with you regarding our visit?”

Mr. Gutma grinned more widely. “Oh yes I remember! I have been anxiously awaiting your arrival. I’ve never before had a muggle stay here!”

Draco and Potter flinched but Eva just smiled kindly. “Well, I’m certainly glad to have the honor of being your first such guest.”

“You said the other two were coming?” Mr. Gutma asked.

Just then the fireplace flashed and Potter pulled Draco out of the way. Draco was about to lash out at the man but was silenced as Granger stepped through and was swiftly pushed forward by a tumbling Weasley. Eva turned and caught her as she almost fell into the spot Draco had just been occupying.

Instead of going off on his “rescuer” Draco decided to instead focus on the fact that his arm was still held captive. “Potter,” he said as the Weasleys regained their balance, “while I appreciate your sudden insightfulness, you can let go now.”

Potter dropped his hand like he’d been burned. “Shut up, Malfoy,” he said, unsuccessfully fighting a blush.

Eva brushed some soot off Granger’s shoulder and rolled her eyes. “Just say ‘you’re welcome’, Harry. He was thanking you in his weird, twisted way.” She ignored Draco’s glare and turned back to the inn keeper. “I’m sorry. We’re all a bit testy after our long trip.”

Mr. Gutma caught the hint. “No trouble at all. Come with me, I have your rooms all ready.”

The group followed the inn keeper up some creaky steps and down a narrow hallway. “What did we decide about room arrangements?” Draco asked softly.

Eva sighed. “Ron and Hermione are sharing a room—for obvious reasons.” They both had the decency to blush. “You and I will be sharing a room with Harry.”

Draco frowned. “Don’t you think we’ll be a little cramped?”

“You’re a freakin’ wizard!” Eva exclaimed. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Potter let a snort escape and Mr. Gutma’s shoulders shook in unmistakable laughter. The man composed himself before turning toward the group. “Here you go! The two are on the left and the three on the right! Do enjoy your stay and let me know if you need anything!”

“A bloody drink,” Draco muttered. His headache was returning and he was trying very hard not to curse the next person that opened his or her mouth. He was sure that would gain him a one way ticket to Azkaban. He fleetingly wondered if that would indeed be a better option, but decided he was too young to explore that possibility.

Eva rolled her eyes. “Thank you very much Mr. Gutma. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” She took the keys from the jovial man. With a wink and a grin he left them in the hallway.

“So...,” Eva started as she glanced at the keys. She singled one out and held it up to the sunlight streaming through the window. She then bent down to inspect the lock. With a determined frown she stuck the key in and turned it. “Aha!” she exclaimed as the door opened. She turned to the others in triumph. “These must be yours then,” she said, depositing two keys in Weasley’s hand.

“Uh, thanks,” he said. “You all right there Harry?”

Potter nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

Draco scoffed and entered their room. “Don’t worry Weasel; I won’t harm your Golden Boy.”

“Draco!” Eva admonished.

Potter just sighed and waved the Weasleys into their own room. He shut the door behind him and pulled out his suitcase from his pocket, absently watching Draco as he did the same. Draco ignored the gaze and sifted through his clothes to make sure they were all unharmed.

He heard Eva snort. “You really are obsessed with wrinkles.”

“Shut up,” he responded automatically.

“Obsessed with wrinkles?” Potter asked. Draco ignored him.

“Draco’s a neat freak.” He could hear the grin in Eva’s voice, the traitor. “I think he has OCD.”

Potter had obviously heard of that muggle disease as he let out a chuckle. “Yeah, he’s always been a bit prissy.”

“I am in the room you know,” Draco snapped.

“Of course you are dear,” Eva said jokingly.

He slammed his suitcase shut. “Whatever! I’m taking a shower.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist!” Eva exclaimed.

Draco sniffed and gathered up the fresh clothes he had selected. Without another word he stormed into the bathroom and locked the door. He quickly undressed and set the water to the appropriate temperature. Stepping under the water he played with the idea of prolonging his shower just to spite Eva, but he didn’t want to show Potter that he could still be so childish.

He frowned as he rinsed shampoo from his hair. He could deny his feelings all he wanted, but he knew the truth. He had told himself that he still hated Potter, but he didn’t. Though he was loath to admit it, he had nearly drooled over the few photos of Potter he had seen over the past year. He growled at himself. It was just a stupid school-boy crush and he was far too old for such fantasies. Even if Potter was miraculously interested in Draco, it would be political suicide for the Wizarding Savior to have any kind of relationship with him. The Malfoy patriarch would likely be horrified, but the Malfoys could hardly fall any further to the bottom than they already had.

He snorted to himself. Potter was not one who cared about political ramifications, but Draco would care for him. And yes, he was quite aware of how sappy that made him sound. He groaned as he realized he would be sharing close quarters with the man. Despite his attraction to the hero, Potter could still be insufferable. That kept Draco’s feelings tightly reigned in during the day. However, sleep allowed his mind to entertain fantasies he’d rather not acknowledge. He certainly didn’t want Potter to hear him if he happened to voice his dreams aloud.

Draco was pulled from his thoughts by a pounding on the bathroom door. “Draco Malfoy! Get your lily-white ass out of the shower! You are not the only one craving cleanliness!”

He rolled his eyes at his friend’s dramatics and shut off the water. He took his time drying himself, knowing it would further piss off the brunette. It also allowed him time to shift his thoughts from Potter and focus on the reason for their little vacation. He could at least try to be civil since his rival seemed to be putting in an effort. Once dry and fully clothed he opened the door. Eva pushed past him and slammed the door shut. Draco heard the lock click and shook his head. “You know I can unlock a door?” he called teasingly, mood mildly restored after his shower.

“Try it and I’ll turn you into a eunuch!”

Draco chuckled as he placed his dirty laundry in his suitcase. He stiffened as he felt eyes on his back and turned to find Potter staring at him. Despite his promise to himself minutes earlier, old defenses sprang up. “Can I help you?” he snapped.

Potter blinked. “Sorry, I must have spaced out.” He rolled his head around his neck, stretching strained muscles. “I forgot how uncomfortable sleeping on a train can be.”

“At least you got to stretch out.” At Potter’s confused look he continued. “You know, having two seats to yourself.”

“Oh,” Potter responded. “I suppose so.” He stretched and Draco winced as he heard bones pop. “Still, not my most comfortable sleep.”

“You’ll feel better once you shower.”

“Most likely.”

The conversation officially died and Draco went back to making sure nothing had shifted in his luggage. An uncomfortable silence descended on the room, and Draco was relieved when it was broken by Eva exiting the bathroom.

“Who’s hungry?” she asked. She looked much better for showering and seemed to also be in a better mood.

“I could eat,” Potter said, glancing at Draco. The blond nodded in agreement.

“Fantastic,” Eva responded, dumping her clothes next to her bed. “I’ll go ask Mr. Gutma for a recommendation.” Without a response she skipped out the door.

“She’s quite energetic,” Potter observed.

“And messy,” Draco added, glancing at the dirty clothes on the ground.

“Right,” Potter said awkwardly. “I’m going to let Ron and Hermione know about dinner.”

Draco shrugged and pretended to pay no attention to Potter’s footsteps leaving the room. After the door shut he let out a sigh, immediately deciding that it was okay to do so if no one was around. This “vacation” was going to be a nightmare. He was stuck with the three people who hated him most and an oblivious muggle friend. They were supposed to find this Enchanted Stone with little information and the ministry watching their every move. Without Eva’s pleading eyes to remind him, Draco quickly forgot why he had ever agreed to this.

He was once again in a foul mood when Eva returned.

“Mr. Gutma told me about a cheap curry place nearby.”

“Fabulous,” Draco responded moodily. He was lying back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Eva frowned. “What’s wrong?” she asked, looking around the room. “And where’s Harry?” Her eyes widened as she forced Draco to sit up. “You didn’t kill him did you?”

The look on Eva’s face forced a laugh from Draco. She grinned as he collapsed into himself, letting his laughter ease his tension from the day. It wasn’t often that he indulged in such displays, and that allowed his laughter to quickly spin out of control. He was still clutching his sides when Potter reentered the room.

“What going on?” the raven-haired man asked.

Draco gulped in air as he tried to get his hysterics under control.

“Oh nothing,” Eva said sweetly. “Draco’s just having a mini-breakdown.”

Draco wanted to kill his best friend but he was still immobilized by his chuckles. Perhaps Eva wasn’t too far off the mark.

“Okay,” Potter said warily. He eyed Draco with some amusement and a lot of shock, but thankfully didn’t comment any further. “I’m going to take a quick shower. I already let Ron and Hermione know about dinner.”

“Cool beans,” Eva said as she plopped onto the bed beside Draco.

“This is my bed,” Draco snarled half-heartedly, finally recovered from his fit.

“Cool what?” Potter asked as he walked toward the bathroom.

“Huh?” Eva said, having been stopped before she could get out an appropriate comeback for Draco.

Draco waved his hand toward the other man. “Ignore her American-ness. She often throws out useless slang.”

Eva hit him. “It’s not useless and there’s nothing wrong with Americans.”

Draco snorted. “Prove it.”

“Which one?” Eva asked, eyebrows raised.

Potter shook his head and let the bathroom door close. Eva and Draco continued the banter until the shower turned on, at which point Eva abruptly cut it short. “You like him,” she said.

“I…what? Wait, what?” Draco didn’t often show his confusion so blatantly, but the statement was so far from their teasing that he had no idea where it came from.

“Harry. You like him!” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

He sniffed. “I do not!”

“You totally have the hots for him!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Eva was silent for a moment. “I don’t blame you. He is pretty cute. What do you think he looks like topless? Or even in the shower? He’s an Auror right? So he’s got to be pretty fit. And all the water falling over those toned muscles.” She grinned. “You know, he didn’t lock the door.”

Draco groaned as he fought against the mental images Eva was feeding him. He could already feel his body reacting and grabbed his pillow. He could feel his cheeks going red as he threw his pillow over his lap. Eva cackled.

She was still chuckling and poking him in the side when Potter came out of the shower. Eva’s poking became insistent and Draco closed his eyes, not wanting to risk a peek if Potter had indeed come out of the bathroom without a shirt. He stifled a groan as unwanted images crowded his mind again.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Potter asked, pausing by the bed.

He could almost feel Eva’s grin. “Not at all,” she said.

Draco finally dared open his eyes to give Eva a warning glare. She looked down at Draco and pressed her lips together, smile firmly in place. It was a sign that she would tease him, but she wouldn’t divulge his secret.

“If you’re sure…”

Draco chanced a look at Potter to see his green eyes lit with amusement. Despite his best efforts his eyes drifted down to Potter’s bare chest and abs. Eva had been right. He was quite fit and Draco was suddenly very glad there was a pillow in his lap.

He brought his eyes back to Potter’s face and was surprised to see a faint blush. They stared at each other for a moment before Eva’s escaped giggle brought them back to reality. Potter blushed harder and hurried to his bed. He turned his back to him and Draco watched as he pulled a shirt on.

Eva leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Did I ruin a moment?”

“Shut up!” Draco hissed.

This time Eva was unable to contain her giggles and collapsed onto the mattress. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. It was just his luck that he was burdened with a sadist as a best friend. He sat up and found Potter watching Eva with a small smile. Ignoring his demands to do otherwise, his heart rate quickened.

It was just a crush; but damned if his heart wasn’t telling him otherwise.


	7. Heat Stroke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a warning: the chapter opens with an unpleasant stomach illness. Not in great detail, and very short, but I thought I’d be courteous to those who might be bothered by it.

“Yeah, that doesn’t look good.”

They were all crowded in the Weasleys’ room, looking appraisingly at one Ronald Weasley. His face was pale and covered in sweat. He looked ready to die, and if they had not known the cause for the sudden illness, they would have found a healer, stat. A sound came from his stomach and Weasley’s groan responded to it.

“I told you not to order the hottest dish on the menu,” Draco said.

“Shut it, Malfoy!” the redhead bit out. Draco was saved from responding when Weasley’s eyes widened and he leapt out of bed.

Draco was grateful that the redhead had closed the bathroom door, but he winced as he heard the tell-tale signs of traveler’s diarrhea. He would never admit it, but he had his own experience with that. His family had done a lot of travelling when he was younger. His parents had always ensured that he ate only safe food, but he had once gone against their advice. He had hidden a treat a vendor had given him and eaten it in private. As a young child he didn’t understand that there were consequences to introducing your system to a foreign food quite suddenly. The only reason he hadn’t been punished was because of how sick the treat had made him.

Knowing what he did of the Weasel’s family, he had to assume the redhead was not aware of these dangers. His old self would have rubbed this in the Weasel’s face, but now he just felt sorry for him. He had even tried to prevent it from happening, but the redhead had taken it as a challenge. Draco shook his head.

Granger’s face scrunched in disgust at the sounds coming from the bathroom. “I guess we’ll be staying in today,” she said with a sigh.

Eva pouted. “I was really looking forward to doing some site-seeing.”

Draco looked at his friend and back to Granger. “It is possible to continue your day with traveler’s diarrhea; it’s just not very comfortable.”

The toilet flushed and Weasley poked his head out of the bathroom. “I think I’m just going to spend the rest of the day in here,” he said weakly, before shutting himself back in the bathroom.

“Well, that answers that question,” Potter said.

Granger bit her lip. “I really don’t want to ruin the first day of your vacation.”

Eva shrugged. “There’s nothing for it. It’s your vacation too, so don’t feel too bad.”

“We can still go,” Potter offered quietly.

Eva and Draco turned to him. “Are you sure?” Draco asked. He was well aware of what it meant that Potter would agree to escort them alone. Either Potter trusted them, or he thought he could easily defend himself against them if necessary. For the sake of peace Draco assumed the former.

“Will you be all right?” Granger asked. The unasked question was also there. She wanted to know if Potter trusted Draco enough to go by himself with the blond and his friend.

Potter nodded. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll go with Draco and Eva.”

Draco blinked at the continued use of his first name. It was starting to get weird. He would soon be forced to use first names or risk seeming childish.

Granger nodded. “All right. I’ll stay here with Ron. You guys have fun.”

Draco watched the woman and felt a strange urge to be nice. “I believe I saw a collection of books in the lobby. Mr. Gutma may have something about the history and culture of this region.”

Granger’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Thank you, Draco. I think I’ll look into that.”

With a nod Draco moved out of the room, Eva and Potter tailing him.

“That was really nice of you Draco,” Potter said softly.

Draco shrugged. “I am capable of such, contrary to popular belief.”

“I think you’re very nice,” Eva piped in. “Why else would I be your friend?”

“Because you like the abuse?” Potter said jokingly.

Eva chuckled. “Did you just call me a masochist?” She looked at Draco. “I suppose choosing him as a friend helps your case.”

“Not funny,” Draco grumbled.

Potter laughed. “Well, I could use a cup of coffee. And then Eva can tell us where we’re going today.”

The trio walked to a café on the corner near their inn. Harry and Eva both cringed as Draco sipped very strong, very black coffee. They had chosen to add cream and sugar to their coffee, like civilized people.

Draco groaned in appreciation, the pleasant flavor momentarily making him forget his company. “I would live here just to have this coffee every day.” He heard Eva snort and opened his eyes to see his two companions staring at him. He flushed at Potter’s raised eyebrow. “What?” he spat defensively.

Eva sighed. “You are too defensive for your own good.”

“I’ve had plenty of practice.”

Draco noticed Potter tense, but Eva just clucked her tongue in disapproval. “None of that Draco. We’re on vacation. We are going to _enjoy_ this vacation.”

“You bloody dragged me here, you absolute loon!”

“Drink your coffee Draco.”

Potter sighed and rubbed his temples. “You guys are worse than Ron and Hermione.” Draco bristled at the comparison but said nothing. “Where are we going today, Eva?”

The woman grinned and pulled out a pamphlet from her bag. “We’re going to Tughlaqabad!”

“Tugh—what?” Draco asked. He mentally tried to get his tongue to form the proper sounds.

Eva sighed. “You are an absolute failure at the non-Latin languages, Draco.” She pushed the pamphlet toward him. “Tughlaqabad. It’s a fort built by the Tughlaq Dynasty. Well, now it’s in ruins, but still rather impressive.”

Draco studied the pamphlet and had to admit that the fort did look impressive. Still, he raised an eyebrow at his friend. “We come to Delhi and you want to see some large stones? I’d think you’d want to go shopping?”

She snorted. “There will be plenty of time for shopping. And they’re not just stones Dray; it’s history. If I just want to study impressive stones I can go to Stonehenge. Now drink your coffee so we can get going.”

“My name is Draco,” he muttered, taking another sip. “Why in Merlin’s name can you not get that right?”

The bus ride was long due to the large amount of traffic, and much too crowded to try to converse. Draco took the opportunity to study his green-eyed companion. The Savior of the Wizarding world—Draco snorted at the thought and ignored the strange stare from his left—had grown since their days at Hogwarts. He now slightly towered over Draco’s height, and he had filled out from the lanky child he had been. Draco supposed Auror training and the knowledge that a madman wasn’t out to kill him did wonders for his body weight and muscle tone. His complexion was as golden as always, the color of lightly toasted bread. There was no denying the man was attractive, and Draco really couldn’t be blamed for agreeing with the rest of wizarding Britain.

What absolutely baffled Draco was that his attraction was not merely physical. The man had been the bane of Draco’s existence since First Year. The blond had consistently been reminded that he would never be as good as Potter and that he was probably worth less than a speck of dirt in the other man’s life. It irked him that while Potter had consumed his thoughts since he had been a teenager, the other man was apparently unaffected. Still, he _was_ trying to be nice. The insistence on calling him “Draco” was leaving him utterly confused. Obviously the hatred was no longer there, but certainly Potter couldn’t want friendship? The very idea was laughable, no matter how much Draco used to yearn for it—still yearned for it if he was to be completely honest. Actually, complete honesty would require that he admit that he desired more than mere friendship.

He was being an utter disgrace to the House of Slytherin. Where was that good old self-preservation? The virtue was not just supposed to extend to one’s actions, but one’s thoughts and feelings as well. Draco was truly failing at keeping such ideations under control. It would do nothing for his health to pine after someone who not only would not want him, but simply could not. And yet—wasn’t that exactly what he had been doing for more years than he cared to admit? Honesty and idealism were not qualities that were inherent to a Slytherin—a Malfoy Slytherin at that. Draco much preferred to see the world for what it truly was and use its shortcomings to his own advantage. So why did the other man have such a tight hold on his attentions?

A hand wrapped around his wrist and forced him from his thoughts as he was dragged out of the bus. He took in gulps of fresh air that he hadn’t quite realized he missed while on the crowded vehicle. Eva dropped his wrist and let him have a moment to compose himself. Whether it was the cluster of travelers or his wandering thoughts that had him so suddenly uncomfortable he could not really say.

“We are not getting back on that bus,” Potter grumbled.

Eva chuckled. “As much as I’d like to agree with you, we won’t really have a choice.”

“I’m with Potter. How about a cab when we leave?”

She frowned. “If you insist. I don’t really trust taxi drivers but I guess I’ve got some good body guards.” She smiled.

Draco snorted, having finally recovered from his attack. “Yes, Eva. Because I would risk going to prison just to protect you from evil, muggle drivers.”

“You love me, really.”

“I do no such thing. Learn the art of sarcasm.”

Potter sighed. “You two are absolutely impossible.” He glanced around their surroundings. “Is this Tughlabad?”

“Tughlaqabad,” Eva corrected automatically. “And yes.”

Draco took in the large stone fortifications. Even in ruins they looked formidable. He craned his neck to look to the tops of the walls and felt a sudden sense of vertigo. He teetered and a sudden strong grip steadied him. He opened his eyes—when had he closed them?—to look into spectacled green eyes. Was that concern? His thoughts spun as his world finally settled.

Potter smiled. “Don’t look straight up at something. I’ve learned from experience that it can very nearly knock you on your ass.”

He saw Eva smile out of the corner of his eye and decided to ignore her. Instead he turned to the hand still on his arm. It pulled away as if burned. He heard Eva sigh.

“If His Highness is done learning about vertigo?” she said sarcastically. “Shall we?”

They spent several hours at the old fort, admiring the crumbling structures and the more modern additions. Eva guided them using a brochure detailing the attraction. As the morning shifted into early afternoon, even she had to agree that they needed to retreat from the oppressive heat. By then Draco’s face was flushed and he was beginning to feel a dizziness that had nothing to do with his earlier introduction to vertigo. He was beginning to wish he’d brought some water with him. He vision blurred as he took a step and his ankle rolled. He cried out softly as he felt himself drop, but was caught before he hit the ground.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked worriedly. His hair was matted to his forehead and he reeked of sweat, but Draco couldn’t bring himself to care. Those bright green eyes consumed his vision and he wasn’t so sure the heat was responsible.

Draco tried to talk but his mouth was too dry. “Har—” he began before covering a sudden cough with his hand.

“Eva!” Harry called.

“Shit!” he heard before suddenly Eva was there too. “Heat stroke. Help me get him against that wall in the shade.” Together they half carried him over to one of the fort’s walls. Eva muttered something and leaned him against his new support before running off.

Harry was immediately back in his line of sight. “Eva went to get you some water. She said you need to take slow, deep breaths.”

Draco nodded and closed his eyes, attempting to do as he was told. He found that the longer he took to breathe in, the less likely he was to cough. He felt his mind going when a hand found its way on his shoulder. “Don’t fall asleep!” Harry’s voice was urgent, but Draco couldn’t imagine why. Harry. Harry? It was a nice name. “Harry,” he said softly, smiling.

“Yes, that’s me. Harry. Stay awake, Draco. Open your eyes.”

Suddenly Draco had the sudden urge to see Harry’s eyes and he opened his own. Harry was looking at him in concern. “Harry’s a nice name,” Draco assured him.

A look of confusion came over the other man’s face. He was about to respond when Eva returned with a bottle of water. He sighed in relief. “I think he’s delirious.”

Eva frowned. “Are you okay, Dray? Here’s some water. Take small sips.” She handed him the bottle and after a moment spent remembering what he was supposed to do with it, he took it and did as she said. He half listened as she spoke to Harry. “Why do you think he’s delirious?”

“He kept calling me Harry.”

“That’s your name isn’t it?”

“He never calls me Harry.”

“I think I’d like to sleep,” Draco announced.

Someone sighed. “That’s fine. We were leaving when you got sick. Let’s go find a taxi and get some lunch.”

Though Draco assured them he was fine after getting back some mental use, he didn’t protest too strongly to being half carried toward the road. He still felt the overwhelming urge to sleep. Eva kept pausing to make sure he took frequent sips of water. Once they approached the road she flagged down a cab.

“I take you where?” he asked.

“Do you have air conditioning?” she responded. He said something to her in Hindi. “Air conditioning?” she repeated, using her hand to fan herself. He said something again and shook his head. She clucked her tongue and dug something out of her back pocket. She flipped through the pocket translation guide. “Vatanukulak?” she tried.

“Haa ji!” he exclaimed. “Yes, I take you!”

Eva sighed in relief. She climbed into the back of the car and motioned for Harry to lower Draco into the seat beside her. Draco and Harry settled into their seats while Eva thumbed through her dictionary again. “Khaana?” Eva attempted. “Nazadeek.”

The driver frowned at Eva’s pronunciation. “Food, yes?” She nodded. “Haa ji. I take you there.”

Eva sighed again and leaned back against the seat. She turned to Draco. “Well, hopefully we’re on our way to lunch.”

Perhaps he should have been concerned that their lives were in the hands of a man with whom they couldn’t communicate, but he could not bring himself to care. He smiled in relief as the driver cranked up the air conditioning and drank the last of his water. “That’s great,” he said drowsily. “Wake me up when we get there.” Since no one protested that he needed to stay awake, he promptly passed out.

He was awoken by an irritating poking in his side. He batted at the hand and grumbled something unintelligible. The pressure shifted to his cheek and he opened his eyes to glare at a slightly blurry version of his best friend. “Wakey, wakey Drakey,” she said, grinning. He groaned and shut his eyes again, registering the fact that he was sitting down and leaning against someone’s shoulder. He frowned. It couldn’t be Eva’s shoulder because she was on his other side. He suddenly remembered who their other companion was and shot up, instantly awake.

And then his vision swam and he closed his eyes and leaned against the chair. “You’re an idiot,” he heard Eva sigh. “First vertigo, then dehydration. You can’t just pop into an upright position.” He felt a silent communication pass over his head and soon Potter was grabbing his arm and easing him out of the back seat. He tested out his eyesight and nearly sighed in relief at the restoration of his normal vision. He still felt a little unsteady, so he didn’t protest Potter’s continued hold on his arm.

As Eva climbed out of the car, the driver handed her a calculator. She frowned at it but dug out the required fare. “Shukriyaa,” she muttered and climbed out of the car.

“Everything okay?” Potter asked as the cab pulled away.

“He overcharged us,” she said crossly.

Draco covered a yawn. “So why’d you pay it?”

She shrugged. “He did keep the air conditioning running the whole time, which will cost him a pretty penny in gas. Figured it balanced out somehow.”

“This is why you could never be a Slytherin,” Draco noted sagely. The remnants of his heat stroke clouded his thoughts and allowed him to be bolder than usual. He used the sudden courage to lean a little more heavily into Potter. If the other man had seen him in a rather embarrassing position, Draco might as well use it to his advantage.

Eva shrugged, bringing Draco back to the conversation. “I always thought those labels were a bit one-dimensional anyway.” She wiped her hand across her forehead. “Let’s go inside before Draco passes out again.”

Draco’s protest was cut off by Potter’s sigh and tug toward the door. “Stop man-handling me, Potter!” he said indignantly.

“So we’re Potter again?” he asked, eyebrow lifting. He didn’t release his arm.

“What are you talking about?”

“You called me Harry earlier,” he was informed.

“I did not!”

“You said Harry was a nice name.”

Draco couldn’t fight the blush that settled across his face. By Potter’s half smile, he didn’t think he’d buy the heat as an excuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some loose translations:  
> 1\. Vatanukulak – air conditioner  
> 2\. Haa ji – yes  
> 3\. Khaana – food  
> 4\. Nazadeek – nearby  
> 5\. Shukriyaa – thank you  
> No, I do not speak Hindi. Yes, I used internet translators for these words. Yes, I am aware I have probably butchered the Hindi language: my deepest apologies.


	8. Kudaana!

Draco studied the three outfits lying on his bed. Upon returning to the inn he had immediately jumped into the shower. When he came out he had discovered that Eva had convinced the rest of the group to check out a nearby club. Weasley was feeling better after Mr. Gutma had found some anti-diarrheal potion and was itching to get out of the inn.

He looked up as the bathroom door opened and Eva emerged. Her red halter top looked good against her tanned skin and broad shoulders. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail and the only make up she wore was around her eyes. She paired the halter with some black shorts and Draco envied that she would be the most comfortable of their group in the Indian heat.

She sauntered over to his side and studied his selection. “Go with the charcoal,” she advised. “It brings out your eyes.”

Draco smiled and nodded. For a moment he was back in London, where this scene was often played out between the two of them. The blond was confident that he would look good in whatever he chose, but that was probably why it was always so difficult to select an outfit.

The image was broken as Potter snorted and went to take his own shower. “You should really start calling him Harry,” Eva said once the door had closed.

Draco groaned and pulled off his temporary t-shirt. “Why is that?” he asked as he pulled on the charcoal sleeveless top. He quickly pulled on the arm-sleeve he used to cover his Dark Mark on the rare occasion he didn’t wear long sleeves.

“Because he calls you Draco. Because you’ve already let it slip. Because it would throw him for a loop,” she ticked off. “Because you like him and you’re not gonna catch him by attempting to keep distance with names.”

“Catch him?” Draco repeated incredulously. “Have you always been this daft, or is it a recent development?”

Eva glared at him. “You are not as funny as you think.

“I’m hilarious.” He carefully tucked away the unchosen outfits. “I’m not trying to ‘catch’ anyone,” he said seriously.

“Why the hell not?”

He was saved from responding by Potter’s—oh all right Harry’s—exit from the bathroom. The brunet’s hair was still wet enough that droplets of water slid down his neck and bare torso. This time there was no pillow to hide behind and Draco could feel his face grow warm. He was beginning to suspect Harry did these things on purpose. He tried to look nonchalant, but he didn’t know how successful that was since he was sure his face was incredibly red.

“What are you wearing tonight Harry?” Eva asked with a knowing grin.

Harry shifted his attention to Eva, but his eyes kept darting toward the blond. “Er,” he said, shrugging. “I’m not really sure.”

Eva’s eyes lit up with delight. “Can I help you choose an outfit?”

“Sure,” Harry answered warily. He walked toward his bed, passing Draco. “All right there, Draco? You seem a little flushed.”

Draco silently cleared his throat. “I’m fine. It’s just the heat.”

“Indeed,” Eva said with a smirk as she followed the brunet to his bed. Draco glared at her, and was sorely disappointed that she was, in fact, immune to it.

He valiantly ignored their shuffling about until his name was called.

“What do you want?” he demanded petulantly.

“Oh, come off it,” Eva said easily. “Come here. You know a spell for Harry’s eyes, right?”

At this he turned, curious. “What are we doing with Potter’s eyes?”

“His glasses will be an absolute menace in the club!”

“That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it?” Harry asked, uncomfortable. “They don’t look that bad.” His face showed the doubt he wouldn’t voice.

Draco snorted and Eva smiled. “No, Harry, they suit you just fine. But this country is hot enough when it’s just us in a room, let alone when we’re in a crowded bar. They’re going to get sweaty, and foggy, and you could very well lose them.” She got a dangerous gleam to her eyes. “Don’t you want to show off those gorgeous emeralds you call eyes?”

Harry’s face was so startled that Draco could not hold back the chuckle that escaped. “Emeralds? Really, Eva, that’s an awful pick-up line. Even you can do better than that.”

Eva smiled sheepishly, but crossed her arms defensively. “What else would you compare them to?” she volleyed.

Draco flushed. “I wouldn’t,” he murmured.

Eva giggled and passed by him as an excuse to whisper, “That is so sweet, Dray.”

This caused Draco to pale even more. He would not let it get out that he found Harry’s eyes incomparable. He was not a romantic sop, and certainly not when it came to the wizarding hero.

“Charm, Draco,” Eva said, reminding them what they were discussing. “Something that will let Harry see for the night without his glasses.”

Draco let out a breath in an action that was definitely not a sigh. “Yes I know a charm.” He pulled his wand from his waist. “Come here, Potter.”

“Wha—?” Harry choked. “There really is a charm?”

“A temporary one, yes. It will last a few hours. Now come here and take off your specs.” Harry did as he was told and Draco grabbed his chin.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked nervously.

“I need you to stay still and Merlin knows you’re notorious for fidgeting. Now shut up so I can do this correctly.” He placed his mind in a purely clinical zone, something he’d learned to do since childhood. It allowed him to shut off all other parts of his mind so he could concentrate on the task at hand. It was how he’d achieved so much in school, even when times were such that he should have been distracted. He muttered the charm with an intricate wand movement and watched Harry’s eyes for the reaction.

When he saw the pupils react positively he shook off his concentration and let himself enjoy the rare proximity to his rival-turned-crush. No matter what he said aloud, Draco thought Harry’s eyes were exceedingly beautiful—more so now that the barrier of glass was removed. Those green orbs searched his, wide with surprise.

“I—I can see,” he said breathlessly.

Draco’s breath hitched and he was grateful when Eva spoke.

“It’s a miracle!” she exclaimed sarcastically. Draco dropped his hand as if burnt and turned away. He gave Eva a thankful glance, which she returned with a grin. With a steadying breath he tried to shake off how close he’d been to kissing the dark-haired man.

“This is so weird,” Harry muttered, glancing around the room.

Eva skipped over and held Harry’s face between her calms. “Some black kohl would totally make your eyes stand out even more.”

“Kohl?”

“Eye-liner,” she clarified with the air of an artist. “Yes, I think that would be absolutely perfect.”

Harry shook his head and tried to back up, but Eva refused to release him. “I’m not wearing make-up,” he protested. “I’m not a girl.” As if that fact was ever a question.

She frowned. “Plenty of guys wear kohl. Draco wears it all the time.”

Draco lifted an eyebrow at that betrayal of trust, but met Harry’s glance levelly. “Really?” the other man asked.

With a not-sigh he uncrossed his arms and turned to his luggage. He dug through his toiletry case and pulled out a bottle of liquid liner. Tossing the bottle to Eva—who caught it with practiced ease—he faced Harry. “Yes, I do.”

Eva grinned. “Please, Harry. Trust me, I’m excellent at these things. And besides, we’re going to a gay club so you’ll likely be wearing the least amount of make-up there.”

“A gay club?” Harry squeaked. “Why?”

“Because Eva has an unhealthy obsession with gay men,” Draco said. “She simply cannot resist them.”

“I resist you just fine,” she mumbled as she checked the bottle of liner. She stiffened as she realized what she’d just said and turned to Draco with wide eyes. The blond’s shoulders tensed and he glared at Eva. He could have played that off as a joke if she hadn’t shown how mortified she was at letting it slip.

Harry looked between the two, mouth agape. “You’re _gay_?” he asked.

This time Draco did sigh because—dammit—even a Malfoy was allowed to do so in the given situation. “Yes,” he hissed. “And I would appreciate it if you keep that in this room. I’d rather not send my mother to an early grave.”

In a rare show of wisdom, Harry simply nodded. ‘Sorry,’ Eva mouthed, but Draco just shrugged. She rolled her eyes and shook off the awkward moment with a grin. “I can’t wait to see Ron’s face when he finds out where we’re going.”

Draco snorted and even Harry chuckled. “That certainly will be quite a scene.” He eyed the object in Eva’s hands. “So how do I put on this eye-liner,” he mumbled, cheeks burning.

Her grin widened. “Oh, I’ll put it on for you.” She looked between Draco and Harry. “You don’t have any eye diseases, right? Because if you do, you really shouldn’t use Draco’s eye-liner.”

The blond bristled. “That is why I’m not in the habit of sharing these kinds of things.” The look he received clearly said that Eva knew he wanted to share a lot more with Harry so he better shut his mouth. Digging into that famous Slytherin self-preservation, he accepted Harry’s assurance that he was not diseased and went to look for his kohl pencil. He knew his eyes smoldered when he wore smudged liner, and Harry couldn’t be the only attractive bloke in the club.

As predicted, Weasley had a minor freak out when he found out where they were going. Granger finally got him to calm down with the assurance that she wouldn’t let anybody take advantage of him. Draco was informed that his declaration of “don’t worry, Weasley, no sensible gay man would go after _you_ ” was not appropriate, but Weasley visibly relaxed at the jibe so Draco let it go as one of those rare moments that Eva was actually _wrong_.

It wasn’t until his panic attack had passed that Weasley discovered the difference in his friend’s appearance. “Where are your glasses, Harry?”

Harry blushed and looked at the floor. “I’m not wearing them tonight.”

“Then how on earth can you see?” Granger asked.

“It’s a charm,” he mumbled.

Weasley looked startled. “I didn’t know you knew a charm like that? Why haven’t you used it before?”

“I didn’t,” Harry admitted. “It was Draco.”

The blond smirked at Weasley’s narrow-eyed consideration. “It’s a temporary spell that corrects vision. It only lasts a few hours, but Eva was concerned that he would lose his glasses in the club.”

Granger nodded and decided to voice the next observation. “Are you wearing make-up?”

Weasley whipped his gaze back to Harry and gasped. “What the hell Harry?”

The man in question continued to fidget. “It was Eva’s idea…”

“Well, I think it makes your eyes look lovely,” Hermione said. “I’m always telling you how nice your eyes are.”

Eva smirked. “Yes,” she said. “They sparkle like emeralds.”

Draco groaned, but the comment let Harry relax enough to chuckle. As the Weasleys looked at the trio in confusion, the blond was hit with the realization that they now shared an inside joke. His heart gave an unnecessary flutter at the thought, and he was grateful to be distracted by Eva ushering them out of the inn.

The walk to the club was not long, but Draco and Eva used the opportunity to spend some quality time together. The trio followed at a sedate pace, and he could hear Weasley giving Harry a hard time about the make-up.

“You should dance with him,” Eva said.

Draco snorted. “Not likely, Eva. You don’t even know if he’s gay.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter really. And I have a feeling. My spidey-senses are tingling.” That statement was finished with a wiggle of her fingers and eyebrows.

He knew that she was referring to what she called her “gaydar”. It was a reference to one of those muggle movie-things, but Draco wasn’t quite sure what it meant. He did know that Eva seemed to have an accurate assessment of men’s sexual orientations, and she had never been wrong. Well, once. But that’s because the man turned out to really be a woman. He chuckled at the memory.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“I’m just remembering the incident with Mr. Man.” He had come up with the nickname for the woman in a brilliant moment of inspiration, and it never failed to fluster his friend. This time was no different as she blushed. It was nice to see _her_ embarrassed for a change.

She coughed and allowed herself to be distracted by their arrival at the bar. “All right, everybody grab a buddy!” Weasley immediately grabbed his wife’s hand with a grin. Draco just raised an eyebrow at his friend’s antics. “What?” Eva asked innocently. “You should always have a buddy when you travel.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he muttered.

“Besides,” said Harry, “we’re a group of odd numbers.”

Eva smirked but didn’t voice the joke Draco could sense she wanted to. “We’ll just have to have a threesome!” she exclaimed.

Draco choked, Harry blushed, and the two women walking past them gave Eva a strange look. She blushed. “I didn’t mean it like _that_ ,” she insisted.

“Whatever Eva,” Draco said, shaking his head. “Let’s just go inside.”

The bar was already packed, despite the relatively early hour. Eva grabbed Draco’s hand in a familiar gesture; she would pick their way through the crowd and drag Draco behind her. He instinctively grabbed Harry’s hand and hoped the other man had the sense to complete the train. They wove their way around the dance floor and to the bar.

“I’m so glad I wore shorts!” Eva shouted above the music.

Draco nodded and chanced a look at their companions. The trio looked mildly uncomfortable and Draco decided that alcohol would be the only way to survive the evening. He gestured toward the bartender and ordered a round of shots. He gave him the credit card Eva had helped him get when they’d started frequenting muggle establishments. With a tap to the shoulder, he motioned for Eva to help him pass out the shots.

“What is this?” Granger asked.

“Bruised Heart,” Draco informed her. Eva hummed her appreciation.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Harry asked.

“Vodka and fruit liquor. It’s good, just take it in one shot.” Eva raised her glass as if to demonstrate.

Weasley seemed to at least understand the manners involved in drinking and clinked his glass against Eva’s. “Cheers, then,” he said. Everyone followed his example and as one they tipped the glasses back and swallowed.

Draco shivered as the burn of alcohol entered his body. He noticed Granger do the same. Weasley was licking his lips and Harry was frowning. Eva, the lush, did not seem affected in the slightest. “Who wants another?” she asked.

“Me!” exclaimed Weasley. “That was good.”

Draco fought back a groan. “I am not carrying either of you back to the inn.”

“What? Can’t take your alcohol?” Weasley challenged. Granger groaned and Harry seemed to watch the interaction with interest.

The blond sneered. “You’re on Weasley, but you’re buying the next round.”

Three shots later Draco was sufficiently relaxed. Eva had bought the third round while Draco picked up the tab for the fourth. Harry and Granger had wisely bowed out of the third and fourth shots. Draco could feel his nose tingling and suspected he should have followed their example. He looked to his challenger and noticed Weasley grinning with an arm around Granger. “You should go dance,” Eva said.

He frowned in confusion until he realized she was talking to the Weasleys. “Ron doesn’t really like to dance,” Granger admitted.

“Well, he’s full of liquor now. Might as well take advantage,” Eva advised. She poked the redhead in the cheek. “Go dance with your wife,” she directed.

His eyes twinkled. “I think I shall,” he said, before pulling a bewildered Granger to the dance floor. Draco decided to ignore them, not wanting to witness the embarrassment that was likely to be Weasley’s dance moves. He was about to order a water when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned to find a tall Indian man smiling at him. The man’s skin was dark and flawless, his perfectly straight teeth gleaming behind full lips. His charcoal eyes held intelligence, and his long, ebony hair was pulled into a low pony tail. The man was well dressed, and it was obvious the material of his clothes were made for the Indian heat. “Would you care to dance?” he asked confidently.

Draco considered the offer. The man was a little old for him, but not bad looking. With a shrug he nodded, and allowed himself to be pulled to the dance floor. He caught Eva’s wink before letting himself get taken by the music. He absolutely loved to dance. It was the only time he could let completely go, and his worries seemed to melt away.

They danced for close to twenty minutes before a low chuckle brought Draco back to reality. “Is he your boyfriend?” the man asked with no small amount of amusement.

“Who?” Draco asked with a frown. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Well, he certainly seems jealous enough,” the man explained. He used his head to gesture toward the bar. Draco turned to find that Harry was watching them with a frown on his face. The other man flushed when he noticed Draco looking and used his drink as a distraction. Eva was watching the interaction and grinned widely.

The blond shook his head with a wry smile. “Unbelievable,” he said.

“Not so much,” the other man said. “You are a very attractive man.” He stopped dancing and held out his hand. “My name is Raj.”

Draco frowned at the hand but took it. “Draco,” he said simply.

“An unusual name,” Raj said. “Well, if you don’t mind, I don’t like being glared at. I shall return you to your friend.”

Draco was about to protest but he was pulled from the dance floor and toward the bar before he could open his mouth. Raj introduced himself to Eva and Harry before asking the woman to dance. She grinned and accepted, telling Draco to finish her drink as she left.

The blond took a sip of his cup and flinched at the strength of it. Eva sure did love her tequila. Now properly prepared, he took another sip from the drink. Harry had visibly relaxed when Raj asked Eva to dance. Now he fidgeted awkwardly.

“I’m surprised Eva didn’t convince you to dance with her,” Draco said casually.

“She did,” Harry admitted. “We danced for a few songs before she decided she wanted another drink.” He shrugged. “I don’t really dance.”

“Shame, that,” Draco mumbled.

“Eva said you guys go out a lot?”

Draco turned to study his companion, but Harry was looking across the dance floor. “Not a whole lot, once in a while.”

Harry took a gulp of his drink. “I have to admit, you surprise me.”

A pale blond eyebrow lifted. “How so?”

“You just…it’s not what I expected.” Harry shrugged again, seemingly embarrassed. “I just never imagined you would integrate so well with the muggle world.”

“You can’t have imagined that much about me at all.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Harry muttered.

That admission shocked Draco to the core. He studied his companion, who fidgeted with his glass. Deciding he could always blame the alcohol later, Draco drained the rest of Eva’s Tequila Sunrise and grabbed Harry’s wrist. He placed his glass on the counter, and reached to do the same with Harry’s.

“Draco?” the brunet whispered.

He smiled and pulled the now glass-less Harry toward the dance floor. “Dance with me Harry,” he said when they reached a clear spot on the floor.

Harry blushed. “I’m not a very good dancer.”

Draco turned, back facing Harry, and grabbed his companion’s hands. “Don’t worry,” he said as he leaned into him. “I’ll do all the work.”

It took a couple of songs but Harry finally relaxed and allowed Draco to help him sway to the music. Their bodies gyrated to the tempo of the songs and Draco lost himself in the feeling. He couldn’t believe that he was dancing in the middle of an Indian club with Harry Potter. Sweat dripped down his face, and he used his arm band to wipe it from his forehead, effortlessly making it seem like part of his dancing.

He didn’t know how long they’d been dancing when he was brought out of his trance. “I need some air,” he heard Harry say. Draco snorted, doubting they would find any breathable room in the crowded club. Nevertheless, he pulled Harry from the floor and found them a space against one of the walls.

They were both breathing heavily from exertion. Harry looked to be sweating just as much as Draco, but at least he seemed to be enjoying himself. The eyeliner made his eyes gleam in the glowing lights, and Draco had to suppress a groan as Eva’s description came back to him; they did indeed look like emeralds.

He snapped himself out of that train of thought as he noticed a man accidently knock the drink out of a woman’s hand. Instinctively he grabbed Harry by the waist and tugged toward himself. The liquid splashed against the wall, missing Harry by mere millimeters. Harry let out a gasp of surprise, glancing behind him and back at Draco. His hand shot out to the other side of Draco’s head as he tried to regain his balance. The movement brought them closer.

Draco held his breath as grey met green. He tried to decipher the emotions playing across Harry’s eyes, giving up when the effort made him dizzy. He closed his eyes, trying to place an emotional distance between them, but he could still feel Harry’s breath brushing against his cheek. He took a deep breath, about to speak, when lips descended on his own.

He had imagined kissing his crush—fantasized about it. Nothing could have prepared him for the rush of feelings that entered his body. Through the haze of alcohol and passion, the sounds of the club faded away. His hand at Harry’s hip dug deeper and his other went up to grip the back of Harry’s hair. The other man made a sound of appreciation as he pulled them closer together.

The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat brought them abruptly back to their present surroundings. They parted and stared at each other, wide-eyed and breathing heavily.

“Not that I want to interrupt such a wonderful show,” Eva said, “but Ron’s looking for you Harry. Apparently he has something _hilarious_ to tell you that just _cannot_ wait.” She was smirking, Draco could hear it in her voice. “He’s definitely very drunk.”

Draco closed his eyes with a frown. It seemed that the Weasel would always ruin his fun. He felt Harry lean his forehead against his and dared to open his eyes. Harry was smiling.

“Of course,” he muttered. He gave Draco an apologetic look before pulling away and turning to Eva. “I’m sure that Ron thinks it’s absolutely urgent,” he said.

At that moment Weasley chose to make his presence known. “Harry!” he exclaimed loudly. “I hafta tell you…tell you…what?” He blinked rapidly and looked to his wife. “Help me out Minee.”

“Minee” gave a suffering sigh. “You thought your nose was missing.”

“Right… _right_!” He turned back to Harry enthusiastically. “It was jus’ _gone_ , Harry! Woosh! Vanished. I couldna feel it. But it wash _here_.” He pointed to his nose. “Here da _whole_ time!”

“We should probably get him home,” Draco advised.

They forced their way out of the club and onto the street. Harry helped Granger carry the plastered Weasley. Draco walked with his hands shoved into his pockets, quite the feat considering the tightness of his pants. Eva kept throwing meaningful glances his way, which he ignored. When they reached the hotel, Draco made sure he was in bed and pretending to sleep by the time Harry emerged from the Weasleys room. Eva had wisely decided not to attempt conversation.

“He’s going to have one hell of a hangover,” he heard Harry tell Eva.

He could imagine her shrug. “He can use one of Draco’s potions.”

Draco seriously wanted to protest that offer, but that would require admitting that he was awake. He knew he would have questions to answer in the morning, as well as complications to deal with, but he thrived on the art of avoidance. Even though his mind complained about the mess he’d gotten himself into, his heart ensured that he had very pleasant dreams.


End file.
